Don't Stand So Close to Me
by Solitary Shadow
Summary: Guntz x Klonoa anthology. Set mainly in the Heroes and Namco x Capcom universe. Tenth story up, 'Food for Thought'. Full summary inside. Complete slash, read at own risk
1. Introduction

Good day to you all! You have reached the third anthology I'm making in the Klonoa fandom alone. It's back again with some different rules, and it is my goal now to write so much of my one signature pairing that you all get sick of it to death. O.o

More rants and developments follow after this.

My first anthology, known as 'Kiss and Tell', was finished very recently. It was purely couples-based, with no limits on word counts or writing styles. It took just over a year to complete, and I've written many pairings. I chose the amount of chapters later on in the series, and I think I'd been a little late in trying to figure that out.

My second anthology, 'Dreamstones of a Hundred Tales', is a drabble and oneshot collection. It is theme-based, and has a hundred themes - the goal is to finish them all. It will admittedly take much longer than a year to complete, but as of now it is going quite well. It has virtually no limits except that all chapters must follow a theme of its own. The whole thing ends with exactly hundred chapters, as it can't continue when the themes are finished. It has had a chapter limit since it was started.

This is my third collection of stories, and now - what can I say? I'm going to try to follow some stricter guidelines this time. I'll incorporate the different rules those two collections have, and combine them into one. The whole thing becomes a lot more limited this time, and this time it'll be as such:

1. An unconfirmed amount of chapters, preferrably around twenty, on one specific pairing.

2. There is a limit to how much genres one can incorporate into a story. That is, if it's angst I'll stick to angst and related genres all the while without suddenly bursting into humour. That seems to ruin the mood when I'm writing about this pairing.

3. The story closely identifies with its title. Some of my stories have a title and then drift away from it and that makes me feel bad. x.x

4. No additional characters except for the ones in Klonoa Heroes and several in Namco x Capcom.

5. There are two main settings for this, and that's the Heroes and Namco x Capcom universe. Sometimes you might get one with my depraved universe settings, but that's very unlikely. I will not write in Dream Champ universe - there's too little interaction for this pairing to seem likely.

My signature pairing is Klonoa x Guntz. I can't seem to write well any other way without masses of planning. Plus, it is my goal to write so much of this so that you all get sick of it. THEN I can move on to something that doesn't have this pairing. But that will probably be a year away (because I can't write +20 chapters in less than a year, when I have a lot of projects) so until then... please enjoy the lovable slashiness of those two. The crack-induced other pairings I'm very likely to continue writing, but I think those ones might be found and scattered everywhere around 'Dreamstones of a Hundred Tales', or written seperated.

Warnings: This pairing in my hands usually become emotional and crack-filled angsty fics. It might just contain a load of blood, swearing, and other such obscene things. And it IS slash after all - don't read this anthology if you hate slash. Don't even read one chapter because I can promise that the whole thing is slash and no hetero whatsoever.

Disclaimer: Klonoa and Guntz belong to Namco, and have since 1997 (for the former) and 2001 (for the latter). Remember that none of this is canon in any way, no matter how obsessively I write the whole thing out. I make no profits from any of my stories.

Now you can wait for the next slashy goodness... or seek out one from the drop-down menu. I think there's one right up close. In fact, it might be near as the next chapter.

Shall we go?


	2. 01: Don't Stand So Close to Me

**Disclaimer:** I'm not some rich snobby character developer in Namco! Get over it!

**Author's Note:** This is the first story in the anthology, and also the title story. It's... well, angsty. That's the kind of thing you'll have to expect from this particular anthology, because let's face it, something with a title that pleads to keep away from it normally will not be all sunshine and rainbows.

This is in Guntz's POV, which is quite rare for me. I love him, but I've not really written in his point of view much. So here it is, the first story that marks the start of another long, long collection...

--------------

Don't try to heal me, Klonoa. Don't even think of it. I don't want you to try. Just leave me be.

I'm torn, I'm tattered beyond belief. I know that all too well. Don't offer me advice and tell me there's still hope, because there isn't. I'm broken. Don't fix me, Klonoa, I know I'm broken. Don't you dare tell me I'm not - don't you dare tell me I'll heal in time. I never will. There are things I've done, terrible things that tore my soul apart, and scars that are so deep you'll never even find them, let alone heal them. I've stolen, I've attacked and I've killed loads of times. I'm not proud of my crimes, but I don't want to be redeemed anyway, let alone from _you_.

Don't stand so close to me. I don't want your pity.

You say that if I had something to get off my chest, or something that hurt my feelings, I could tell you and you'd help. Fool. You know nothing, absolutely nothing about me. If you even knew a little about how cruel and fucking screwed up I can be, you would never have trusted me in the pyramids in the first place. But you trusted me, you actually trusted a bounty hunter with your safety, and look where we are now. In an underground jail beneath those pyramids. Fucking _brilliant_. Great one.

I shouted at you, but you never shouted back. You never protested. You just looked at me with those amber eyes of yours, sadness and confusion etched into them, and that somehow made me feel guilty. _Guilty_. One emotion I don't like. And you made me feel it. And you said that I should talk about my problems with you, and you'd help me sort them out. You obviously haven't realized yet that I'm hiding my scars from you _because _you want to heal them. Klonoa, you don't know what that'll do to me. You can't heal them, you fool, and if you tried you'd only end up pushing me away and abandoning me. They're a part of my life and soul now. I don't want them healed.

I pretend to be asleep. You're still awake, I know. I know because of the way you're breathing - sleeping people are more relaxed, and they breathe slowly and steadily. Your breathing is still quite normal. I sense you in front of me, staring at me with those enigmatic amber eyes (damn you, Klonoa, they confuse me so), and you have that look in your face. It's as if I'm your most precious posession, say like a porcelain doll, and I'm broken and scratched all over and you can't do anything to fix me. I can feel your touch, so soft and relaxing against my scarred cheek, gentle with no malice or hate. It's been years since I've last been touched like that.

You lie down next to me, and lean close.

Don't nuzzle into my chest. Don't stroke my cheek and kiss me. Don't show me that act of love-

You're such an idiot.

You snuggle close to me, asleep quickly, and I actually feel tears in my eyes, along with the lingering, burning sensation of your lips on mine. Damn you, Klonoa, why must you torment me so? I'm sorry, I care for you, I love you, I do. It's been such a little while, but people do fall in love fast if you think about it. But I can't care for you, I can't love you. Bounty hunters don't love. They don't care about anything. I shouldn't either, but you I've grown to care a lot, and it's driving me crazy.

You know that fucker. You know that purple cat... Janga. His name is Janga.

He killed my father, Klonoa.

His name's Janga and he killed the only member of my family I had.

Do you have the faintest idea what I had to go through to try to take revenge? I was five, God-damnit, I was five when my father died. Hardly old enough to fare for myself. I've lived alone since then and refused any care. I went starving for a few days at a time. All was fine then, because I had a goal. I was going to kill Janga and spent ages perfecting my aim. It's good to learn young, my father used to say, and he was right. I was ten when I became a bounty hunter.

I had money, and then I could properly live for myself, and... fuck, all hell broke loose. My goal began to fade. I was addicted to killing, to stealing and taking loot out of anyone's pockets. Living like an outlaw is no fun. I think that's the time my eyes became cold. People told me when I was little that I had bright blue eyes. Well, I looked at myself after six years in the mirror, and there they were, cold as marble and no glint in them whatsoever. Amazing what half a decade could do. I lost my purpose in life. I thought that I had no chance of getting revenge and I was destined to live like this through my time, without happiness, without purpose.

And then I was bounty hunting around here, I met you, I wanted to take you with me - cause hell, two's company. You're a lot different from the people around here. You have an unique aura surrounding you. You were different.

After a couple of weeks, which happens to be today, Janga appeared before me again. Fuck, all those times I'd waited, I'd searched for him, and I'd given up. Lunatea is a hell of a large place after all. And now he appears before me in the same fucking time when I'm off guard? Fate's so cruel.

I was so close. I was so close to killing him at last - and then he pulled the lever and I came tumbling down. You came ten minutes later. If you hadn't trusted me, you wouldn't be here. It would have been better if you weren't here, because you're not in my way. So indirectly, you're the reason I'm stuck here.

But I still can't hate you, because you remind me of myself. You're so naive, so innocent. I hate to be the one with bad news, but that isn't going to last long...

... And yet, I _won't _be telling you that. It's the painful truth, but I won't tell you yet. It's not considered a lie to keep the whole truth. The moment you hear that from me, your naivety and innocence shatters. I don't want that. As much as you annoy me, I love you because you're just you. It wouldn't suit you to be glum and depressing like I am.

I've sacrificed so much for this moment, to kill Janga and watch him die. If I take off my shirt you'll probably see the hundreds of scars etched onto my back, and a few more across my chest, stomach and arms. I've been hit by bullets, slashed and whipped at loads of times. Do you have enough confidence to heal all of them? Can you actually even heal even one of my scars, when you don't even know why I've been mutilated that way, when you know nothing of my sacrifices? I don't think so.

You shift against me and sigh, looking contented. I've never seen you look so happy, and for a moment I smile. But then I grimace, wondering what's becoming of me. You purr softly as my hand rests on your back, and I quickly snatch it away, disgusted that I've shown care. I shouldn't care. I never can. I'm much too fragmented, to shattered to be able to care properly, and you can't pick up the pieces. Not anymore.

I'm broken, Klonoa.

So don't go around telling me I'll heal. Don't try to heal me, show love towards me, or even show care in any way. It's far too late for that.

I don't want you to fix me.

--------

Imagine wanting to hate someone so badly for messing up yet not being able to, because that someone is loved by you still. It'll drive anyone crazy.

I personally like this one. I really should practice Guntz more often. He's fascinating when you're writing from his view. Of course, he's fascinating too in other stories - but hey, when you're in his shoes the whole perspective twists around so dramatically it's almost a parallel universe. Guntz's POV enables one to write in alternate universe without actually making the story AU.

_-This story was completed 22th of August, in the year 2007.-_


	3. 02: Choreography

**Disclaimer:** Solitary Shadow has been writing (campy) Klonoa fics since the December of 2005, but officially does not own them and never will. The authoress makes no profits out of any of her works.

**Author's Note:** This is a still-life, present tense description of the second fight against Guntz. It's in Klonoa Heroes, first boss, Breezegale. It's a twisted account, yes, with my own imagination sprinkled over the details, and I am very proud of this particular piece. The whole thing takes place in that battle ground with the trees and where the sun is setting.

The action is laid out, contrary to the minutes the fight takes. All this, if your Klonoa is at a high level, in the game wouldn't take much longer than a few minutes. I've set the fight to taking about fifteen minutes in the story, because that's realistic.

But still, fifteen minutes is not a long time if you're fighting against a homicidal hunter who would gladly shoot you and laugh. You would spend most of that time dodging.

----------------

Two figures lash out at each other as the sun sets.

If Klonoa had been a normal resident of Breezegale he would probably be dead by now. But he is the Wind Child after all; he is not normal, and as his opponent shoots a couple of bullets towards him he can parry them, he can deflect them away. The opponent is on a motorcycle, but Klonoa's on his feet. And he's holding out well. Not dead, dying, desperate, or despairing. He's not normal or some other kid you find, and he reminds himself of that constantly as he dodges another rush of bullets. His opponent's gun flashes and he lunges forwards, and Klonoa blocks and parries and spins. It's poetic, almost beautiful in the dimming sun, illuminated brilliantly in a shade of orange. Klonoa has to find an opening in the constant firing of bullets and the sound of his own sword slashing, and remind himself again and again that he shouldn't be appreciating this fight; any other resident of Breezegale wouldn't have found anything to appreciate, would probably be surrendering now, like Chipple, or perhaps Popka (who's fierce in his own way).

But he's no ordinary resident of Breezegale.

He's not even out of breath.

This is no duel, it's a performance. And there's only them onstage, fighting, blocking, whirling again and again. The wind dances by them, the cool evening breeze beginning to set in. Klonoa is momentarily chilled by the sudden gust of wind - as he's only wearing very short clothes - but the rush of adrenaline warms him up, and he defends himself at the nick of time, and launches an offensive towards his opponent. The attack hits the motorcycle, and it's rendered useless. But his opponent is not even shaken, and quickly jumps out to continue with the fight. As disappointed as the cabbit is with the destroyed motorcycle not even affecing the other, a small part of his mind is glad that this performance, this work of art can be continued for far longer.

They crash into trees and bushes, Moos scattering here and there. Klonoa respectfully and skillfully dodges around the little scurrying creatures, also jumping over thick branches. His subconcious respect for nature unwittingly creates tension in the performance, his nimble footwork providing more gaps and guiding him. He never misses a step, parring, trying to knock the gun out of his opponent's hand. His opponent, however, does little of the sort; as Klonoa sidesteps, leaps, avoids his attacks, of course he doesn't _care_. Branches are crushed beneath his heavy boots, the grass stalks bent and broken. He doesn't care the _slightest_, of course, and he just focuses on his target, occasionally shooting, most of the time dodging skillfully and trying to get an accurate mark. Klonoa is inwardly amazed with the way that the performance is going, how his opponent stares so calmly with sapphire blue eyes, his breathing perfectly synchronized with the cabbit's own, how fast he moves even with his weaponary and heavy clothing. His opponent smiles cruelly, knowing that his height and more experience in duels serves to intimidate; and Klonoa knows that he's bluffing, he's just putting it all on, but can't help flinching every time he does. The cabbit can't help it, can't help it at all.

His opponent is a hunter, Klonoa knows that all too well. But he has no idea what truly lies beneath this young man's appearence, of the fights he'd won, of the scars he'd recieved. Naturally he would not know why - after so much effort - he is_ losing_. He is losing and there's so little he can do to alter that.

Suddenly the hunter slips and stumbles, gasping for breath. He regains himself, expression barely altering, but Klonoa's too fast; he's left a defence open, he's vulnerable, and the cabbit eagerly takes his chance. The blade comes swishing through the air, and the hunter has to block it with his handgun, throwing the blade off with force. But he's stunned, he's still open, and Klonoa is determined not to fail. He steps forward quickly, his boots making no sound, and then launches an attack on the offensive. He's on control and he's confident of it.

Klonoa's just a boy, so no blows of his can be particularly forceful; but the hunter chooses not to risk his handgun a second time, and twirls around so he is behind the motorcycle. The blade barely grazes his long ponytail. With a quick decisive movement he is directly behind, pointing the still-fuctional missiles of the motorcycle at the cabbit, ready to set it off if needed.

The hunter is such a fool in this moment; Klonoa can see that this is yet another bluff, built of lies just like the foundation of the hunter's life, as he noticed earlier that the button for setting the missiles off are nearer to him and therefore the hunter can't set it off. He's a fool, and Klonoa's still in control of the situation. He jumps up on the seat of the motorcycle and swings the blade directly above his opponent's head. The hunter jumps and spins away from the blow, gun held away from his body. There is no way he can defend himself in that posture, Klonoa knows, and it's just so utterly _stupid_.

So, so utterly _stupid_. The hunter knows what he's doing.

He knows all right.

Klonoa hesistates for half a second or so, now pointing the sharp end of the sword away from his opponent, instead striking with the blunt end. The hunter falls down to the ground, and is immediately preyed upon by the cabbit, who pins his arm down and holds up his chin with the point of the sword. The hunter stays on the ground, eyes closed, never making a sound, not even flinching at the feeling of the cold metal upon his chin. His lips are parted a little, and he's breathing heavily. One hand is on his waist, where the blunt end had struck, and his chest heaves occasionally, but he still does not move. His handgun is a few meters away from him, and as he is stronger than the cabbit he could throw him off easily if he wanted. But the hunter does _not_ fight back, his blue eyes do _not_ open, and silence reigns supreme.

Stage moves belong onstage, and duel moves belong in duels - Klonoa is frustrated at how the hunter treats this like a joke, and sheathes his sword, turning away. But the performance is not over; far from it. As he turns away, the hunter swings out one of his legs - and his legs are rather long by normal standards - and trips the cabbit over. The sword falls from its sheath, and the hunter swiftly kicks it away. Klonoa, of course spins and falls down, winded. He feels like laughing, for being stupid enough to throw away his chance of attacking, and not realizing that the hunter had been playing him all along. The cabbit had never been in control. The hunter's waist is perfectly alright; what kind of damage could a boy, with precious little knowledge of weaponary, inflict on a bounty hunter? His jacket is not even torn, and the hunter is moving fast, for someone who _looked _so grieviously injured.

And then the hunter is on him, straddling Klonoa's waist, one gloved hand pinning down his arm. With the other hand he slowly traces the contours of the cabbit's face, his movements surprisingly gentle. Klonoa doesn't know what to do, how to react but to stay still; the heat of the hunter's skin, the sound of his breathing is affecting his ability to think straight. He looks up at his opponent, and his opponent stares back at him with calm, sapphire eyes, expressionless. They are beautiful eyes - they look cold, cruel, but there's a certain quality in those eyes that Klonoa can't exactly pinpoint. He has never seen such a beautiful shade of blue before.

The hunter leans in slightly, staring eye to eye with the cabbit, still calm and expressionless. His breathing is slow, controlled. His free hand slips beneath the cabbit's shirt and rests on the fur of his stomach, tauntingly hinting that it could slip higher - or lower, depending on his reaction. The sensation of the silky glove on his fur is almost too much, and Klonoa is meant to be - what? Aroused? Afraid? He would like to think it is neither, but the warm hand resting on his stomach feels too nice, and he can't help being quite turned on. A blush graces his cheeks, and the hunter notices.

The hunter leans in even closer, their noses almost touching, his silky, fine hair falling onto the cabbit's face and sliding down to the ground. He hardly notices, and slowly trails his lips down the boy's neck, provoking a small moan from him. Something like a grin appears for a second on his lips, but then the hunter's expression is clear again, and he looks up. Klonoa squirms pleasantly at the feeling of the fluffy neck fur of the hunter tickling him. He doesn't register the feeling of his shirt zip being pulled down, but the feeling of the evening breeze against his bare chest is too sudden to ignore. The hunter's gloved hand slips higher, now caressing the soft tuft of fur on the boy's chest. Klonoa moans again, louder this time, body trembling with emotions that are new to him. He attempts to sit up, but the hunter pins him down again.

In the slow, steady rise of the darkness, the hunter's lips brush against his own, engaging in a somewhat clumsy kiss. Klonoa's too shocked to even respond; but it feels _nice_, too _nice_, and he can't help but sink back down and return the kiss. The warmth of the hunter's body, the feeling of his soft lips against his own is intoxicating, as much as he hates to admit it, and he wants more. The kiss continues for a long time, their eyes closed, skin against skin. The air is heavy with the hunter's scent, and Klonoa shifts around, wanting much, much more.

Suddenly, the hunter pulls away. Klonoa is left lying on the ground, dazed and and his eyes glazing over, staring at the darkening sky. The young man pulls out a small budded flower out of his pocket. It's still whole and not even torn. He carefully presses the flower into the boy's hand, and gets up as if nothing has happened, walking over to his motorcycle. Klonoa gets up also, shaken, awkwardly zipping up his shirt, clutching the flower. The hunter is at the motorcycle, examining it. A few presses on a certain point, and a slight kick later, the engines splutter into life, and the hunter swings a leg over the seat, gripping the handlebars and ready to set off. Klonoa just looks on, dumbfounded, and the hunter turns around, tossing him a glance. The glance seems to hint that the hunter would see him again in the not-so-far future, and then he drives away.

The cabbit is left standing there, confused, not knowing what exactly has happened. His opponent's warmth can still be felt on the flower, and he raises it to his chest, holding it safe. His lips tingle at the thought of that kiss, the feeling of the hunter's lips still lingering, and he looks up at the sky - the first of the stars now studded on the pitch-black darkness - and wishes one thing; that he would see the hunter again soon, and that the performance of their lives shall be repeated again.

-----------------

Mmm. No dialogue. That's the thing that was so challenging. I was so tempted to make Guntz say something sassy/witty/cruel.

Not much naughtiness, but definitely descriptive... meh. That should really be enough.

_-This story was completed 25th of August, in the year 2007.-_


	4. 03: Twist

**Disclaimer:** All those fics are belong to Solitary Shadow. Klonoa and Guntz are belong to Namco.

**Author's Note:** As you could probably tell from the extremely retarded disclaimer, this is one of the most pointless stories I've written. I've lost the creativity wave yet again, and I feel drained. Meh. This story's about drinking. And Twister. And suggestive confusing stuff. Three men are walking with their shoelaces loose. So I'm just kind of... you know... dead.

One story set in my depraved universe nobody cares about.

-------------------------

"I tell you, this is the only way we'll decide." Klonoa was saying as he unrolled a large mat and set it down. "You won't agree to toss coins or throw a die. We have very little time to decide who gets the last piece of chocolate cake."

"And who's the one who ate it all?" The sarcastic reply came. "Shouldn't it only be fair that I get the last piece?" The cabbit pouted.

"And who's the one too scared to toss a coin?"

"Fate is never on my side anyway. Bastard." The other person stood up from the chair, a hand on his hips, staring down at the mat. "So this is the only way we'll decide, hmm? Rather unorthodox, if you ask me. And childish."

"Tough." Klonoa was taking off his boots and set them down on the floor. "I'm a lot more flexible than you, Guntz. I'll win for sure." Guntz simply smirked and took off his jacket and boots, casting them aside on the floor, and settled himseld into a corner of the mat.

"We'll see about that." He smiled again. "Besides, we might not even have to play this. There is only us two in this house, the inhabitants of Breezegale are busy, and there's nobody here who'll help us just because of a piece of chocolate cake. Face it, Klonoa, there's nobody to work the spinner."

The cabbit was silent for a while, sitting quietly at the side. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but Guntz had an excellent point there. There was nobody to work the spinner, and without that person nothing could be decided.

"Stay there." Klonoa finally said, and went out to get the communicator.

------

"So you need me to work the spinner?" The voice at the other end of the communicator said. Klonoa said yes.

"You're crazy, do you all know that? I have masses of work to do here. Somebody spilt a bottle of brandy on the important documents, the servants are on strike, and I'm out of chocolate. You have no idea how busy I'm right now, and you ask me to work a Twister spinner so you can get a piece of chocolate cake. Great one."

"So are you going to help or not?" Klonoa asked, sounding bored.

"You're on." the voice replied with a ghastly cheerfulness. "I have a spinner here, and I can spin it quite well. I've had experience. Not all of them are pleasant ones, but still..."

"You have a spinner there?" Guntz asked, shocked. "But I thought the palace had no such things! Games are not allowed there, are they?"

"No _complete_ games are allowed." Came the reply. "There is no mat. I just have the spinner."

"What use is that?"

"Don't ask me that. I don't know." The irritated reply came. "Anyway, leave this on. I'll just get the spinner, alright?"

"Good. We'll talk to you in a sec, Jillius." Klonoa said, grinning. Guntz, although looking unhappy, took the communicator as Klonoa passed it to him, pressed a button and spoke into the communicator again.

"Standby mode on, please confirm."

"Affirmative. Confirmed." Came the reply, and then the line went silent. Klonoa placed the communicator on the floor near the Twister mat, put the volume on maximum, and turned to grin cheekily up at the hunter.

"You've got to play it now. There aren't any alternatives now, are there?" Guntz glared at the cabbit, but did not reply. He walked over to the table, poured himself some vodka into a shotglass, and drank it down in one gulp. He slammed the small glass down onto the table, and turned to Klonoa with a slightly flushed face. He walked over and stood calmly at the mat, having worked up the courage to play the dreaded game.

------

"Left hand. Green." The young man said into the communicator, sounding bored. It was a change from the meeting he was due in today, but as he wasn't there to see Guntz and Klonoa struggling on the mat, he had to rely on his imagination.

"There _is _no green!" Yelled an annoyed voice from the other side. Jillius rolled his eyes and spun again.

"Fine. Right foot. Red."

"That's your turn there, Guntz." Came a murmur, accompanied by a series of hostile muttering. There was a brief crackle of static, and sounds of rustling around, and then Klonoa was calling him again. "Okay. Next?"

"Right hand. Blue."

"Okay..." Klonoa shifted over gingerly so that he was as comfortable as possible. Being a Twister champion, he was doing well so far, but he was now thinking that maybe his chances were not as good as he had first thought. Despite the effects of the doubly-strong alcohol, Guntz could twist around very well indeed and his coordination was superb. The hunter was swaying a little, dazed from the vodka, but showed no signs of giving up.

"Right hand. Red." Guntz shifted over. He was leaning awkwardly over Klonoa now, and the cabbit could feel his warmth. Somehow that made him feel... pleasantly uncomfortable. It was the ultimate oxymoron, he knew, but that's the way he felt.

"Left hand. Yellow." Klonoa flipped himself over onto his back, supporting his weight with two hands, and face-to face with Guntz. They stared at each other, and hastily looked away, eyes darting around everywhere but the other.

"Left foot. Yellow." Guntz shifted his left foot over to the yellow, now being directly suspended over Klonoa. They were in a very... compromising... position, and the hunter was looking determinedly at the blue dots on the mat, eyes fixed only there, and a blush upon his face.

"What's next?" Klonoa called. There was no answer. "Jillius?"

"... Stay right there." Came the suddenly sharp-sounding reply. "I think someone's coming. I'm going to attempt to escape the castle and go over there. Stay where you are."

"What?" Guntz cried, head snapping up, staring at the communicator. "But that would take you hours!"

"I can teleport over there once I'm out. It should not take very long."

"But-"

"Over and out." The communicator went dead. The two teenagers stared disbelievingly at the device, unable to move. The silence continued for about five seconds.

"Fuck!" Guntz choked out, summing up their emotions in one. "The bastard! He hung up on us!" He slammed a fist into the mat, wobbling dangerously, and swearing again under his breath. Klonoa watched from below, stunned disbelief etched into his face, staring blankly at the hunter.

"So... what the hell do we do now?"

"Goddess knows." Guntz muttered. "Stay here, I suppose. We have a hell of a smart bastard coming over this place. He should remember the whole positions easy-peasy." The hunter chuckled, sounding depraved, and Klonoa flinched, looking very scared. "I wonder how many minutes his version of 'not very long' takes."

"Even if he just wants to come over by teleporting, he would need to get out there and I daresay he'll have to work his way through the entrances." Klonoa began to think. "His room's right at the centre of the palace, so that means the nearest entrance-"

"How do you know he was in his room?"

"I heard his prize clock ticking." The cabbit said simply. "So the nearest entrance will take him... ten minutes at the least."

"Ten fucking minutes? My God!" Guntz swore under his breath. "I'll kill him once all this is over."

------

"Guntz?"

"What?" The irritated reply came.

"Erm... it's been three minutes... do you really think he'll turn up?"

"He will. I just don't know when." Guntz's arms were shaking, and he looked demented, ready to kill. "If he doesn't turn up in two minutes..."

"You know... you can have the cake. I shouldn't have started this in the first place. I don't know what I was thinking, Twister won't get us anywhere-" Guntz looked sharply at Klonoa at that. The cabbit looked nervous, and almost uncomfortable below him - and was he blushing? It must have been the position, the hunter thought, and smiled to himself. An idea struck him, and he decided to play along with it, just to entertain himself.

"We could share if you wanted to." The hunter whispered, nuzzling Klonoa's neck. The cabbit's eyes widened, and he stared. He briefly wondered if he was hallucinating, or that Guntz was drunk off the vodka and just showing it now, but it felt nice, and he just lay still, staring up.

"Come on." Guntz whispered. "Don't you want to share with me, hmm?" He seemed to be hovering dangerously, and was shaking. His legs suddenly gave way.

"Um... Guntz-" The cabbit's words were cut off with a cry, as Guntz crashed down on top of him, squashing him onto the mat. Klonoa yelled in pain, as the hunter had grabbed onto one of his ears for support, and shook himself loose.

"Shit..." The hunter muttered. "I never should have agreed. I guess you win, then."

"You've got to stop doing that." Klonoa groaned. "You're way too agressive, even when you're falling..."

"Sure." Guntz purred, grinning. "Want to see _how_ agressive?"

"Oh my God_dess_!" Klonoa screamed, grasping his head. "Why are you doing that!?"

"I don't know, baby, but maybe it's _loooove_..."

There's nothing to this, Guntz! It's just that... the spinner... Damn it, Guntz, it was just a coincidence!" He didn't really believe it himself, and neither did Guntz. The hunter carried on smiling, now feeling happy with the whole situation. He'd meant the whole thing as a joke, but _this _seemed better.

"I like this position, you know." He hummed. "We should play Twister more often, if a few spins come out with something like this."

"Really?" Klonoa had stopped resisting, and looked up into Guntz's eyes, looking shy yet trusting. "Well..." He was cut off again by Guntz, who pressed his lips gently to his for about a second and pulled away slightly. chuckling.

"So you still want to see how agressive?"

"... Go for it."

------

Meanwhile, the young emperor had not been escaping from the palace at all. He'd quickly imagined himself a Twister mat, fitting all the positions in. A small grin graced his lips as he figured it all out. He grabbed himself a video camera.

"... I've _got_ to see this..."

-----------------------

You know... this was based on a real incident. All of this was written in less than an hour. And the positions, if the mat is positioned with the green to the left and the red to the right, does fit in and look very, very wrong.

So everyone ends up perverted in the end. Fun.

_-This story was completed 31st of August, in the year 2007.-_


	5. 04: Admiration and Loss

**Disclaimer:** Klonoa and Guntz do not belong to me. I really should stop writing this stuff. People are getting sick of me.

**Author's Note:** This is another depressing one. The previous one sucked so much it was unbelievable. I might delete that one. This story is set at the end of Heroes, when the Heroes go their own way. In the ending credits Guntz is seen leaving the trio in Volk City, but this is my interpretation of things.

I need con-crit. And I really haven't been well lately. I go back to school tomorrow. Try to enjoy the un-slashy fic that is still slash.

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"I guess this is goodbye, then."

Guntz stared at the young cabbit for a long time, blue eyes fixed on his face. Even after he'd said that - said goodbye - he couldn't quite bring himself to leave this place. They were alone, the great golden bell next to them shining in the last of the sun, the evening breeze ruffling their fur. Pango had gone down to say a brief hello to the Breezegale residents, and to explain what had happened. Klonoa was home. And as for him... well, that was another matter.

Klonoa's head was bent, one hand clutching the small golden ring, looking down. It was as if he felt afraid to look at the hunter, and was trying desperately to avoid his gaze. Guntz noticed this all too well, but just kept on looking at him.

"Do you really have to go?" Klonoa whispered, looking up at last. Tears shone in his eyes. Guntz felt something lurch inside him at the look - he did _not_ want to leave Breezegale. Amidst the chaos of Lunatea this was the most peaceful village he'd ever seen, and he wanted to stay, among the calm, quiet residents who knew little of him. They would accept him. But he also knew that he could never stay for too long anywhere, for he had a lot of enemies. And he didn't want to bring danger to Breezegale.

Strange to think... he cared now.

As a mature teenager who had been in the bounty hunting business for years, Guntz always lived one step closer to death. Every day was one day nearer to dying. At the end of the day, it was one day less to live, and that was all. He'd long ago given up feeling fear. It did so little for him. Since he was ten, he'd learned to press the impending feeling of doom to the back of his mind, tucked away carefully, while all that was left was nothing. Blankness would not interfere with his work. But as he stared at the young cabbit, who seemed so reluctant to let him go, seemed worried about letting him back into this dangerous world of Lunatea, he felt his fear coming back. He did not want to danger this safe place, he did not want to put Klonoa in mortal peril - Janga had been only one, if greatest, of his many enemies. He knew the youth would never understand. But danger in this last safe place was the last thing he wanted, and for Breezegale's own safety - _Klonoa's_ safety - he had to go.

"I must leave." He finally said, and turned away, his gloved hands reaching for the handlebars. He lightly swung a leg over the Red Clan, checking its engines, and patted it absent-mindedly. His fear seemed to increase with every second, and he was eager to get away, knowing that once he was off into the forest the feeling would disappear. He felt uncomfortable, staggering under the weight of his fear, but nonetheless he was going to try to hide it in front of the cabbit. "Goodbye." He called, his voice still gentle, still soft enough for Klonoa to notice the change in him.

"Guntz!" But Klonoa wouldn't give in; Guntz turned towards the cabbit, and then suddenly the young boy was in front of him, blocking the way with his body. "Please... please don't leave, Guntz! It's too dangerous for you out there. Stay with me. I live in the red hut over there-" Guntz looked down. It was a rather large hut, with a red roof, and with the number fourteen painted on the door in small letters. Guntz had perfect eyesight and could pick out the details quite well. "-and... I don't want you to go." Klonoa looked up, desperate. "Stay with me. Please. Nowhere else in Lunatea is safe."

"And neither will this place, once I reside in it." Guntz replied, the words coming out colder and sharper than intended. "Move aside."

"What?" Klonoa stared. "No! What do you mean by that? Breezegale is practically unknown! You'll be safe here!" His word faltered for a moment. "I... I want to protect you!"

"Protect me?" Guntz asked, sounding annoyed. "Just move aside. I'm not worth protecting."

Klonoa said nothing. His eyes were staring into Guntz's, confusion and sadness etched into them, searching for an answer that the hunter didn't have. "You're wrong." He whispered. "You do deserve to be protected. You deserve so much more than what you have, Guntz. Please stay. I don't want you to go."

"I have to." Guntz, as hotheaded and impatient as always, started up the engines. "Move, Klonoa! I'll run you over if I have to! Move over right now!"

"You won't do that, Guntz." Klonoa whispered. He didn't budge. "I know you won't do that. You've known me for over a month now. I know you won't kill me."

The hunter was rendered temporarily speechless. He looked at Klonoa, and the cabbit looked back, and neither moved. His hands clenched on the handlebars. "I'm a bounty hunter," He snarled softly. "You know that."

"But you're not a killer." The cabbit replied softly.

"Which makes no sense!" Guntz finally shouted, losing his temper. "What kind of a hunter would anyone make if he does not know how to kill? You're only hindering me, Klonoa, and I have no time for this! Now go and leave me! I'm going and you can't stop me doing it!"

"You don't enjoy killing, Guntz. I know you don't." Klonoa held out his arms, making himself an easy target. "I'm going to stop you no matter what you say. Shoot me if you will, but I'm not moving from this place." The hunter had a sudden, violent urge to strangle this boy, and his hands clenched tightly on the handlebars. But then his grip loosened, and he turned off the engine, staring at the cabbit's face and trying to comprehend what was going on in his mind.

"I don't understand you." He said finally. "Why're you so eager to protect me? What'll you gain from it? I'll only endanger this village."

"You won't endanger anyone, Guntz." Klonoa replied. "You're a good guy. You've never put me, Pango or Lolo in danger."

"You talk nonsense." The hunter sneered. "You don't know what I have done before. You don't know _anything_ about me. If I stay I'll just be a nuisance. Leave me be and just-" His voice faltered, and he closed his eyes, clutching his head. "-just... stop. Let me go my way." Klonoa said nothing. The boy's ineffable calmness further infuriated the hunter, and he looked up again, shaking with fear and irrational fury. "Damn it, what do you _want_ of me?"

"I don't want anything. Just that you stay with me here."

"God-damnit, Klonoa, stop it! If you don't want anything, just let me go! I have nothing to give!"

"I only want to save you, Guntz." The cabbit looked exhausted, looking up at him with amber eyes. "You don't deserve to go out and get yourself killed. You're one of Goddess Claire's finest creations, Guntz; I want you to be safe away from harm."

For the second time that afternoon, Guntz was speechless. He just stayed sitting on the Red Clan, staring with confused blue eyes, his lips unmoving. He could not express himself anymore, and he just didn't know what to say. When he had gained some hold over his conscience and mind, he hissed softly out of the corner of his mouth: "What do you mean by that?"

Klonoa smiled again, his amber eyes twinkling. "It seems you're not too eager to escape after all." He came around to stand next to the Red Clan, smiling softly. "You already know what I'm talking about, Guntz. Look at yourself through my eyes. Or anyone else's. You're devoted, chaste, unbending, loyal and pure. You're one to be admired above all the others."

"Admired?" Guntz snarled. "Oh yes, in your dreams! No one in god-damn Lunatea admires _me_, Klonoa! You know nothing of what others think of me! 'There goes Guntz the Bounty Hunter,' They say. 'The unfeeling cold bastard. He doesn't care about anything.' They call me, and say I have a heart of stone. One of them could cut my throat, and the others would go 'Don't bleed to death now, Guntz, you mean bastard, now you'll get us into trouble with the cops'." He stopped, and bit his lip lightly, quiet after his sudden outburst. Klonoa looked stunned, and he seemed to have backed away very slightly, but he was still standing.

"They fear and hate me more than the Devil himself." Guntz continued, his voice quiet and subdued. "You're wrong, Klonoa. No one admires me. You're a fool to think otherwise."

"I do." Klonoa said softly. "Call me a fool, Guntz, if you feel that way. But I admire you."

It had begun to rain. The last of the sun was fading over the hills, and the sky was dark with clouds, the raindrops falling to the ground. Klonoa stood still in the sudden downpour, while Guntz flinched at the cold raindrops hitting his fur. The water ran over their faces, dripping to the ground, but neither of them looked away from another.

"What does all that matter to you?" Guntz finally spoke, his voice hushed. "Your life is forfeit if you do. They'll never leave anyone here in peace."

"But it's worth every bit to me." Klonoa replied. "You're so much better than I am, Guntz. I admire you for everything."

"Klonoa... listen - to - me." Guntz grabbed the young boy by his shoulders, stepping away from the Red Clan, wrenching them still closer until their noses were almost touching. "I am _not_ the better one! I have done nothing, absolutely_ nothing _with my life!"

"Guntz, look at the work you have done-"

"Work!" Guntz released his grip on Klonoa and clutched his head; he actually looked quite deranged. "Oh yes, I almost forgot about my _work_. My god-damned _work_! Yes, I have my _work_, what I've been doing so far just so I could get _revenge_ and kill Janga, but what do I have now? He's _dead_!" He spat out, every syllable punctuated with hate. "I have nothing left now. No friends, family or happiness. I might as well just die right here, now that I have so little! No, bounty hunting is no work, Klonoa, and you'll - you'll _never_ understand!" He turned away, breathing heavily, and his shoulders shaking with unconcealed grief.

It had always been abstract to the hunter that his revenge would leave him so empty. But now he was here, among the raindrops, and he realized fully just how pointless everything had been, how he had built his life in a foundation of lies and death. He'd done it all... for nothing.

"Guntz..." Klonoa was holding him from behind, his arms wrapping around the cold, wet body of the hunter. "I never..."

"Look what you've done with your life even though you're way younger than I am." Guntz spoke quietly. "My so-called work, the memory of people I've killed is all I have. And look at you. You've saved Lunatea... went and fetched Lolo back safely... gave us all hope and banished away Nahatomb... I've helped nobody but myself in my life. Yet you..." He turned around and knelt, fingering the golden Hero medal on the boy's chest.

"You, Klonoa, are a saint." He whispered. And there was silence.

Guntz went and sat down heavily on the seat of the motorcycle, staring blankly ahead. He was sitting sideways, which meant he was facing away from the handlebars, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was to close his eyes, curl up and die. The whole world was pointless to him. Nothing made sense. Klonoa was next to him, looking at him with sadness, noticing the tears running down Guntz's face even through the rain. He slipped one hand into the hunter's gold-and black mane, pushing the soft fur aside, and felt for the Hero medal. It was there, shining golden, twinkling in the light of the moon.

"You have yours here, Guntz." He said softly. "This is just one of the many things you have done." Guntz looked up, the faint light of the golden medal noticed, and looked at Klonoa.

"It's beautiful, Guntz." Klonoa whispered, his face close. "_You're_ beautiful." He leaned forwards slightly, delicately touching his lips with the hunter's. Guntz didn't resist, and let the cabbit do what he wanted. The rain fell still heavier, their fur getting wetter. But neither noticed, lost in the kiss, wrapped around each other in blissful silence.

They pulled away after about a minute or so. " May Goddess Claire be with you." Klonoa whispered, tracing the contours of Guntz's face.

"And with you also." Guntz replied, knowing the full Lunatean custom. Then his expression hardened again. "This changes nothing, Klonoa. I still have to leave. I do not intend to let anyone get in the way, even if you're the one."

"I know." Klonoa replied sadly. "I knew from the moment you turned to go that you would never stay. But I wanted to stop you nonetheless..." He trailed off briefly. "I couldn't expect you to stay with me here."

"You'll miss me?" There was no answer. "You said the hut with the red roof."

"That's right. Number fourteen." Klonoa answered, his voice still sad. "In case you should change your mind."

Guntz's piercing gaze lingered on Klonoa again for a long time, sapphire eyes meeting amber ones, and then he turned away. The engines started, and he drove off.

He never looked back.

Klonoa watched him leave, his heart heavy. "That's right, you idiot." He muttered, wiping his eyes. "I'll miss you. Even though you're such a fool."

--------

"Where's Guntz?" Pango asked, as the cabbit trudged down the Bell's Hill alone.

"He left." Klonoa answered simply.

And that was that.

------------------------

Depressing stuff. My skills at writing sweet kiss scenes are breaking down. I'm losing my touch to my works.

Damn.

Klonoa's older in this one. I'd say he's around fourteen years old here. I usually write him around twelve-thirteen years old. Guntz is still sixteen and irrationally angry.

_-This story was finished 2nd of September, in the year 2007.-_


	6. 05: Moonlit Thoughts

**Disclaimer:** Guntz and Klonoa does not belong to me. Never has. Never will.

**Author's Note:** Something to get my muses flowing again. It did not require a lot of thought, as you might have guessed... I got inspired by a label on a bottle of bleach and wrote this. Don't ask. You're better off not knowing. x.x

--------------------------

Sometimes I sit on the Red Clan and wonder about how I'll be greeting you when you come back. Sometimes I sit by the window when it rains, watching the drops trickling down the glass, thinking about what our next battle holds.

And sometimes I look at you and become so _frustrated_ at how you remain unaware.

Haven't I given you enough hints, Guntz? Isn't the way I glance at you during the day, the way I hold onto tightly when riding the Red Clan enough for you? It's been weeks since we've been out here on the battlefield, camping and killing Moos that wander in and attack us. I admire you, Guntz. I watch you, I look out for you, but you can never see me there. I'm like a little brother to you, one you take care of. But always nothing more than that.

True. I'm three years younger than you, with you being sixteen and me being thirteen. But that's still not much. Three years is hardly enough to put a barrier between us. I know you care for me, I know you consider me your best friend, rival and brother. I know because I feel the same towards you. You're like a brother to me, a good friend, and occasionally a rival. We can spar with our weapons when we're bored, and after we're done sparring, we can fall onto the ground, laughing to ourselves and lie close together, enjoying the sun.

And yet... are those three things_ all _I am to you? To me, you're much more than merely that.

It's late night. There are stars shining above our tent. I wish you could see it, Guntz; it's a clear night, without any clouds. The full moon's shining, and if I lean out a little further, I can see the other tents in the distance, stopped there for the night. Tomorrow I know the battle will commence again, but for a few hours there is peace, and that's enough for me. But you're tired and asleep. I wish I could talk to you one of those nights. But you're never awake that long.

I look at you, and sigh, tucking the covers around your body tightly. You're very disoriented at nights; strange, because you're a wolf, and wolves are mainly nocturnal. I'm guessing that it's been so long since you abandoned that habit, and being tired only adds on to it. Sometimes you just literally fall flat down on the bedding and go to sleep without bothering to eat something or change. Today was one of those times. I can understand how tired you must be, looking after me and fighting each battle every time. Why won't you let me battle more than three times in one day? There are a lot more battles than just three in one day nowadays, and when you do let me fight it's always against Moos or something simillar. I don't want to see you getting hurt, scratched, poisoned and goodness knows what else besides. Whenever those Moos come near I tense, ready to backup if you need me.

Sometimes I almost wish you'd fall over so that I could rescue you.

No, no, that's such a wicked thing to say! I shake my head and turn to you, still asleep under the blanket. You're shivering from the cold. It's a rather chilly night, I know that. It's cold enough, that even with your dense fur you're still feeling it. I love the way your fur feels, soft, silky and warm to the touch. I'd like to groom it for you some day. You look so sweet just lying there - at day you look intimidating, with your blue eyes glaring straight at the opponents, but at night I'm the only one who knows that mask is gone. You're still wearing your jacket. I would like to remove it for you, as it seems a little uncomfortable, but then again letting you freeze is even worse. All I can do is to tuck the blankets around you.

I really, really do wish you were awake now.

There are so many things I want to ask you. I know so little of your past, despite me being your battle partner for a few months now. Why, for instance, did you take up bounty hunting? Why were you orphaned? I wonder what happened to you when you were a child. You go silent and cold whenever the subject comes up, and you seemed uncomfortable seeing Pango and Boris making things together when we visited them a few weeks back. I've never asked you about that, because...

Because what?

I was worried, I guess. I don't want to hurt you. Something traumatic happened to you when you were young, I can see that, and I don't want to deepen the scars. That would be the last thing I want to do to you.

But was there really no one in your life who cared? Was there nobody who really _looked _at you, saw your blank, cold eyes, and thought that there was something wrong? Did no one care about you at all? Was there no one to tuck you in at night, kiss your forehead, and tell you that they loved you?

If there wasn't anyone to do all that, I would like to be one.

I could kiss you, embrace you, and tell you that I love you. I could compliment your appearence. I don't know that much, Guntz, but there are so many things I'm willing to do for you. It's strange. I've never felt like this before. I've never felt that I could give my life to save someone. But I would die, many times over, if I were to save you. I can just imagine myself, smiling in death, telling you that I love you, always have and always will. I can imagine dying, telling you that you are beautiful.

It's true. You are very, very beautiful, Guntz - surely you must take after your mother. If you were not so well known in this world, one could look at you from afar and admire your beauty. They would not believe they were looking at a male teenager. If only...

I would wake you up and confess my feelings to you, if only you knew a little about the extent I care for you.

Just how far into your psyche, your state of mind am I prepared to travel?

I don't know myself. It's me, _I'm_ the one who loves you, _I'm_ the one prepared to die for you. But as for the question of how far into _your_ mind I'm willing to go... I don't know. I have no idea whatsoever if you love me back, or if you don't, or worse, if you even like me at all inside. It frightens me, Guntz; as much as it shouldn't, it frightens me. I know I'm being paranoid. But I'm frightened by what you really feel for me. You're a male, just like me, and to you I'm just one more being. You just happen to care for me a lot more.

I dream of you every night, when I drift off into uneasy sleep. The dreams themselves are sweet, but they depress me greatly; because dreams, as wonderful as they can be, are merely fantasies, and they can never come true. I'm a Dream Traveller, but I can only travel if someone summons me. Dreams, to me, only hold meaning if I'm sent to somewhere because of them. Which no one has for a very, _very_ long time. I know I'm deluding myself, I'm having wild fantasies about things that cannot be, but I simply can't help it.

Even yet, if you said you loved me, I'd be lost. I'd be scared. I wouldn't want to know, and I would turn away from you and run as fast as I could.

And I can't understand why.

It's a cold night.

I snuggle next to you, leaning against your chest, feeling your silky neck fur pressing onto my cheek. It's soft and warm. You've stopped shivering. Whether because of the blankets or my body heat I have no way of knowing, but you're not cold, so that's the only thing that matters. I'd hate for you to get so cold - I've heard that frosty nights will get more commonplace as the days go by. Unless we finish all this soon, we'll be battling well into winter.

I wonder what will happen to us then.

I'm thinking of Felicia, Ki, Valkyrie and the others. What will happen to them? Will we be fighting all through winter? Is there a way for us to get out of this before it becomes worse? It's a dire situation out there, Guntz, and I'm worried. It's the end of September, and in this world the frost sets in November. We have about a month before winter. And I don't think we can finish all battles and end this once and for all in that kind of time.

I'm scared, Guntz.

Are we all going to die?

The enemy presses in still closer every day. What are we going to do?

I'm _crying_. I don't know if it's out of fear and weariness, or fear of losing you. As much as I hate to admit it, there are tears rolling down my cheeks, dampening your fur, and I can't stop them coming. I feel my shoulders shaking, and I'm making sobbing sounds, hand clapped over my mouth to try to mask the sound. But it's unmistakable, I can't kid myself, and I'm _crying_. I can't stop it. I'm just so tired, Guntz; tired of fighting, tired of keeping my love for you hidden inside me, and tired of living out here. I want to go back to Breezegale, safe with you, tucked away in a corner of Lunatea where no one will find us. That's the only true safe place I know of. Goddess Claire knows where else is as safe. Even La-Lakoosha is not as secure as Breezegale; in fact, it's more of a target, because it's so well known.

In fact, I bet Breezegale is the last safe place.

I would love to go back, yes; but if we desert the others, what effect would that have? That would be disgraceful indeed, selfish and incredibly foolish. There will be others who pursue us, and we would only lead them to Breezegale. No, as much I wish to go back to my hometown, Breezegale is best left alone for now. That's the only good thing we can do.

Midnight. There's no sound. Even the sounds of Moos shuffling about in the grass has ceased. One hops by our tent, looking curiously at me with its violet eyes, but I have no intention of harming it. It's only a little Moo, hardly more than a month old, and it hasn't even got a stone sword. It's one of those Moos, Guntz, we come across in Breezegale. The ones with content lazy expressions. It looks at me, its fur ruffling lightly in the breeze, and with a soft chirp it hops away into the darkness again. They're quite sweet, I guess, when they're young and little.

I wish you were awake. I could say so much to you. Even though I just ramble incoherently all the time, I wish for you to be awake.

But I know how the scenario will turn out in the end.

The light will shine upon us. We'll wake up, with me waking first and watching you stir slowly. You'll blink a few times, sit up, and smile dazedly at me.

"Guntz, I've got something to tell you-" I'll start.

"Food rations down again, Klonoa? We might have to go out and nick some of Valkyrie's. I'll go out and check if there're any footprints - we can't have anyone snooping around." You'll go out quickly, and then come back. "We're safe. Come on." You'll wrap your arm around my shoulders, and smile again. "We might actually finish something nicely today."

I'll stare at you. I'll swallow my pride and the words I wanted to say, deep inside my mind, ready for the next day. A smile will make its way to my face, not entirely forced but not entirely genuine either.

"I know," I'll reply gently, looking up into your beautiful blue eyes.

"Isn't it grand?"

------------------

Guntz sounds like an idiot in this one... x.x I did not intend for that to happen. Klonoa is supposed to be innocent yet angsty in this one, and he turned out tangential instead. Well, sometimes that happens with my characters.

This is set in Namco x Capcom. I see the universe of NxC as a universe intergrated with a dozen different worlds, all linked together. This takes place in the Lunatean section, I should say. Felicia and others are mentioned, but use them too much and it becomes a crossover. So... yeah.

_-This story was completed 22nd of September, in the year 2007.- _


	7. 06: Communicator

**Disclaimer:** The idea of communicators in the Klonoaverse was first thought up by another person. Klonoa belongs to Namco.

**Author's Note:** Yep, come back from large hiatus. Fun. I've got so much coursework to be doing, it's unbearable. It's driving me proper crazy. But I still managed to write something, yay. Basically, Klonoa recieves a parcel and the contents leave him agonized.

Enjoy.

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It'll ring.

No it won't.

It'll ring.

But what would the message be if it did ring? And from whom? Do I even know what I'm thinking about? No. Do I even know what the hell will _happen_ if I answer it? No. I should forget about this. It's getting bloody ridiculous. Two months I've spent resting here, safe from the battles of the outside world, and then suddenly this thing turns up and sparks my curiosity again. Great.

It won't ring.

I sigh, and lie down on my bed, staring at the communicator. Damn it; why must it torment me so? It's nothing but a communicator. It's a bloody handheld talkie. I should stop thinking about this and move on, and discard this piece of junk somewhere where nobody can find it. I mean, come on. There are better ones out on the market; I've never seen such a stereotypical communicator before, all black and shiny with a lid. It's so... I don't know, it's something you think of but never expect. That's what stereotype is all about. When you meet a teenager, you don't envision the moody, emotional, tall youngster, even though that's the image of a 'typical' teenager we've come to accept. It's the same with this communicator.

But my mind, being the curious thing it is, won't leave me alone. It keeps asking me questions I can't answer. Who sent this, for instance? For what purpose? Where was this sent from? And mostly, why did _I_ recieve it all of a sudden?

The communicator was found at my doorstep three days ago, wrapped in a paper package. Surely the sender was careless, or was out of resources - because nobody would wrap anything in paper while the ground was wet from the rainy season. Either that, or the sender was not aware of the unexpected weather conditions of this place. There was no name, no address, but that was to be expected. There were no sightings of the sender, so it is quite possible that he or she snuck in at night and left quickly, or they used a Postman Moo. Plenty of them around here. They're tame, and as long as they recieve food or coins, they're happy to work for anyone. They're careful with packages, don't draw much interest, and are capable of stealth. They give away nothing, because they don't speak Lunatean. Normally they're used for romantic presents and secret messages - but this -

What am I thinking of? I don't even know who put this on my doorstep on the first place, and I'm thinking of Postmen Moos. Klonoa, come on, get a hold of yourself. It's just a bloody communicator.

I realize I've not been telling the full truth. This communicator is actually quite nicer than it looks. When I flip the lid open, I thought there were just the usual layout of buttons. This one has dreamstones embedded into it, making it capable of attack if someone wanted to and the owner could use dream energy. It's powered by dreamstones, too, so it has no need for batteries. It also has a very unusual layout; I think that's an illusion, rather, for people who can't use dream energy. If I stare into it hard enough there are new functions. This one helps me track back to the original buyer, if I wanted to. Let's try it out, then...

Damn. The sender is too clever for this. He or she has erased all records.

Somehow, I feel that this communicator holds a new chance - a new oppurtunity. This is no ordinary communication device. Only someone with a large sum of money, and the knowledge to use it, would be able to buy this.

Who could that be?

Let me think. Pango is very knowledgeable, but he cannot use dream energy. Lolo can use dream energy, but then she knows little of technology. Leorina? She knows both, alright, but she's too careful with her money. Besides, she is too straightforward to just enigmatically send things. Knowing her, if she wanted to talk to me, she'll burst straight through the door.

That leaves Garlen... and Guntz.

There is no way Garlen's alive. He is powerful, yes, with vast knowledge of technology, but he is not alive, not in this world. Why would he send this to me even if he were alive, anyway? So he could send threatening messages and spam the inbox for eternity? No.

But Guntz...

He has been gone for half a year. Half a _year_. I have no idea where he is or what he has been doing all this time. He never contacted me, and he didn't leave anything for me to contact him. For months I searched, but could find nothing.

I could have forgotten.

But I didn't.

Guntz is too vivid, too bright, too _alive_ inside my mind; I don't know why but I feel a close tie binding me to him. He saved me before, he helped me, and that is not something you can ever forget. I can visualize him too clearly; the golden-black fur, the long, shiny raven-black hair he always tied in a ponytail, the tight clothes he always wore, the set, handsome features... and his eyes. How could I forget his eyes? I can imagine them, a beautiful sapphire blue, cold and cruel at first glance but tinged with sorrow when looked closely at.

I know so little of him, but he knew so much of me.

Oh, Guntz...

I don't know why I can't forget him. I simply don't _know_. There are people I've met over years, and I recall only a few of them. He's just one more person I've encountered. But I have no idea what made him so different, so memorable. I owe my life to him, he helped me out of my naivety... Is that what makes him unforgettable?

Is the sender of this communicator even him?

Let it be him, I find myself wishing. Please, Goddess, let it be him. I miss him too much. I want him back in my life again. I want to travel alongside him, feel the touch of his hands on my head, and perhaps talk with him every so often. That doesn't sound like much to ask, but Guntz never really talked to me about his past or any other event. Without him I feel so empty, so alone, it's unbearable. I've never felt like this in my life. I've never felt so dependent on someone before...

I sigh. I'm fantasizing. It'll never come true anyway, it's never going to-

The communicator rings. I jump for a moment and stare, transfixed. Is this a delusion to trick me? Surely it can't be - nobody knows this number, except for the sender. I can find out who it was. I snatch up the communicator, flip it open and put it to my lips.

And I say nothing, the words frozen on my lips. What can I say now? I can't just say 'Hello, do I know you? I think I do. Why did you send this to me?'. That just... isn't right.

"Hello?" I finally whisper into the communicator.

"Greetings." An oh-so-famillar voice replies, the voice calm and uniform. "I have kept you waiting for a long time. I apologize." I gape, standing still, hardly able to believe this is happening. Is this just a delusion, or am I really hearing - him?

"Are you the Shinigami?" I ask finally, after a long silence. There is silence on the line, and then the voice is back.

"Indeed yes, I am."

"Oh, my God." I whisper. "I can't believe this! Gu-"

"Hush!" He quietens me. "I cannot guarantee this connection. But there is no harm in speaking itself. Speak with care, please." So like him, careful yet considerate at the same time. My doubts vanish. It's him, I'm sure it is.

"Yes." I reply, still in a daze. "Are you near my location?"

"I am."

"Do you remember where we parted months ago?" We said farewell on the Bell's Hill. Only he knows that.

"Indeed I do. I am twenty minutes away by motorcycle from the location concerned."

He must be in Jugkettle, if that is so. I draw a breath. "We must meet."

"Yes, we must." He answers, sounding almost pleased. "I will be with you quite soon. Noon, today, at the location we last met." I look at the clock. Eleven thirty.

"Accepted." I breath out again. "Don't... don't forget the medal. Identification."

There is silence on the line.

"How could I ever forget?" His voice is suddenly soft, gentle and kind. I feel like I could melt hearing that tone of voice; it sounds so lovely, just what I wanted to hear from him all this time, the voice I only imagined I could hear in dreams. "I shall see you soon. Over and out."

"Affirmative. Connection closing." I reply shakily. I snap the lid of the communicator shut and set it down, my mind whirling.

Is this all a dream? It doesn't feel like it. This all feels too... real. Why did Guntz call to me? What had he been doing? But the doubts in my head vanish and I'm left with a pleasant feeling; Guntz is alive, he contacted me, and I'm going to see him again. I look up at the clock. Eleven thirty-two. The walk to the Bell's Hill takes twenty-five minutes. I will be with him soon.

A soft laugh escapes me, and I feel myself smiling. I grab my ring, do up my boots and run out of the door, still smiling.

I'm not alone.

-----------------------------------

This, as you would know, takes place just before Namco x Capcom. Naturally, Guntz shows up in time for this one, makes further arrangements, and is late the next time, and gets a tongue-lashing from Klonoa. x.x

I plan to be starting a threeshot. I have the full story planned out. It'll be of a pairing, but I don't know which one to choose. Guntz x Klonoa or Guntz x Lolo seems the most likely, but I'm kinda torn here. I would love any suggestions.

_-This story was completed in the 17th of October, in the year 2007.- _


	8. 07: Heartbeat

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Namco Bandai Games.

**Author's Note: **O.o I've still got so much homework to do. But I like writing more. So I came up with this whilst sitting out the results of my maths mock exam, and wrote it down in a corner of my exercise book. And I wrote it.

I'm doing the National Novel Writing Month 50,000 words challenge... so I might not update much in November. Then again, I will have a lot of free time, so I might carry on as usual.

-----------------------------------

Help me.

Oh, Goddess, help me.

Why? Why the bloody hell did you have to go and do that? Did you honestly think, even for a moment, that I was worth saving? Why didn't you leave me to battle it out on my own - hell, I have much more better resistance than you do! I would have dodged and fought on. But you had to jump in...

Oh Klonoa... you fool...

Pango is saying something next to me but I don't listen. I can't listen, With you so hurt - how can I possibly pay attention to anything else, let alone respond to things? All I can look at is you, lying like some rag doll on the ground, tattered and torn. You're broken, eyes half open and dull, with no sparkle. Bleeding from three gashes on the chest. Not moving.

Fuck... I must be going soft. Because I _shouldn't_ care about you.

This feeling - it disgusts me so, Klonoa, but I can't help but worry about you, even though I said many times before that I didn't care. Lies. They were all lies, lies I told to protect myself from feeling vulnerable and I realize that now. I never minded the sight of blood, but now I'm staring down at your blood all over my hands... fuck, I just feel sick. Your blood is strange. It's almost black. Or is that because it's congealing into this dark mess? And does that mean you're dying already?

"Guntz, we haven't got much time!" Pango's voice shakes me back to reality. "Klonoa'll die if we leave him like this! There is bound to be an antidote somewhere in the Base." He adjusts his pack. "Here, I'll carry him-"

"No," My own reply shocks myself. "I'll carry Klonoa." I don't wait for replies. Pango's right, we really don't have much time. You're not that heavy - and am I noticing that only now? How many times did you ride with me on my Red Clan? Dozens of times, I guess. You always grasped my waist to keep from falling off. A lot of bother you gave me when you fell asleep with your arms around my body. And I never noticed your touch, never noticed the way you hung onto me, because I was too wrapped up within myself.

"Let's go." I manage to say somewhat shakily, and then we run.

But I'm still nowhere near understanding you and your intentions.

You know nothing of Janga. You don't know he killed my father. And you certainly don't know that I became the Golden Death, Shinigami Guntz for the sole reason of avenging my father.

And you... you jumped in front of me and took the blow for me, even though he had nothing to do with you whatsoever.

Janga was _my_ opponent. He was _my_ enemy. I fought him myself. And after all that I had to spare him. Sure, my Hero Medal's turned silver, but I can't help wondering what that was for. Was I supposed to spare him and get you killed because of it? Or would have the medal turned silver even if I'd killed him as I wanted to? But what would have that made me? What would either of those options made me? Hell, if you die what does that say of me?

I don't understand you. I... I don't... I _can't_... understand you.

I'm sorry.

Goddess, I'm so sorry.

I've failed you, Klonoa.

After all you'd done for me... I'd never realized, I'd never noticed, and now look where you are. In my arms, hovering between life and death. You shouldn't have trusted me, you fool, because I could give nothing back to you. You knew that but you still stayed.

I'm going mad with worry, and at the same time I hate you too, because you were foolish enough to trust me. Klonoa, if you wanted to live then you should have stayed away from me. You should have stopped caring for me. I care for you, more than anyone, but I hate you too, for making me feel guilty.

What the hell am I thinking? I can't hate you... I won't hate you. You're dying and it's no time for hate. I'm sick of hating, I'm sick of endangering and killing people wherever I go. You changed me. And I'm going to save you.

I've never believed that will alone could make one fight well. But now I'm frantically shooting through countless Moos, kicking the bodies aside, fighting as I'm fighting for the very last time. Pango throws an alarm-clock into the air, which glows as it floats and resets, beginning to tick. He's used up two of the time-extenders already. There's only one left, and that's the one I'm holding, hoping that we'll never have to use it and get you to base alive as quickly as possible.

I press your wound, trying to stop the blood flow, but you only wince. I stop; I don't want to hurt you any more than you are already. But you're losing too much blood, too quickly, and if I don't do something you'll-

Damn. I can't say it.

I've killed so many people over the years, but I've never felt remorse about it. But now... you're too close to... fuck, I can't say it. I can't even let the word slip.

"Guntz, this way!" Pango runs to the right and I follow. "How's Klonoa doing?"

"...He's bleeding too much..." I sound weak. Hell, I _am_ weak.

"Guntz, hold on! We're not going to let him d-"

"Don't say it!"

Pango sighs. "I apologize. We must hope for the best."

I'm desperate. Desperate enough to plead. Desperate enough to plead to a Goddess I never believed existed but still feared.

"No!" Pango gasps from near me. I don't need to look around to know what's going on. There are too many Moos, too many enemies blocking the way to the exit, and we can't fight them off even with our special techniques. We've used up too much energy to be able to do that. There's only one chance left and I'm holding it.

"It's the only way." I say softly, and then I close my eyes, throwing the last time-extender into the air.

The world slows around us almost instantly; the movements of those creatures are now slowed down, and we're the only ones moving in real time. We cut through the bunch of creatures, and I don't know how we're doing it. We're just fighting to get out, madmen caught in their frantic efforts to escape.

The time-extender falls behind us and shatters as we get out.

"Come now. It should be here... somewhere..." Pango gasps out and runs. I follow.

I swear... Klonoa, please live. You have to live! If you live, I swear that I'll never let harm come to you as long as you're alive. Never. I'll protect you for eternity. You can't die like this, so far from home, dead because of this foolish hunter and his foolish ways.

I'm going to protect you.

But even as I say that, your heartbeat slows until I can barely feel it.

Please, Goddess Claire, let him hold on. He's young. He's only a boy. Let him live, and take me instead if you absolutely must take someone from our group. Klonoa can't die like this. He's too fragile, too young, too innocent to just fade away like this. Us Lunateans may only be marionettes hanging onto the fragile strings of life, their strings cut when their time is up, but for Klonoa it is not time for the strings to be cut yet.

Klonoa, hold on... please live, live for the people back at home... live for Lolo... for me...

Oh please, dear Goddess, have mercy...

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Nothing too special, just a little oneshot about the Moon scene. Moar of that scene needs to be written. Rawr.

-_This story was completed 02nd of November, in the year 2007.-_


	9. 08: Conversation in a Tavern

**Disclaimer:** Klonoa characters not mine. Yellow Submarine not mine. They all belong to Namco and the Beatles. I saw the movie a few hours ago. It's like the worst acid trip ever put down on film. Very trippy. Meh.

**Author's Note:** I wrote this after watching 'Yellow Submarine'. It's like... described above. It's the most weirdest thing I've ever watched on film. The Chief Blue Meanie scares the hell out of me. And the glove. OH MY GOD THE GLOVE. IT HAS THE MOST SATANIC LAUGH EVER. Thanks to that I can bid goodbye to my much-needed sleep tonight. x.x

Anyway, this is one of my 'conversation' pieces. There isn't much story but a lot is revealed. It's a piece of Guntz x Klonoa... with _neither_ of them present. Mobian Hero gave me the inspiration for this fic months ago. Thank you, m'lady. You inspire me greatly.

------------------------------------

"He was a good boy."

"Ah yes, he was a good boy." A small sound of sipping. "Although he was hostile he was good inside. I knew it when I travelled with him. And I've known him for a fair amount."

"There was _something _about him, wasn't there?" A sigh. "I've only met him about twice. But he was all right to me. Seemed lonely. And rather angsty too. But he seemed perfectly alright to me."

"That's him alright. He just couldn't trust people. That's why I thought it so odd that he decided to travel along with us."

"Your glass's empty... I'll fill it for you..." A sound of something pouring into a glass. "That'll be okay, won't it, Pango?"

"Goddess bless you, Jillius... Ah, it's a pity he had to die." Creak of chair. "Such a fine lad..."

"What's going on here?" A creaking sound, and rapid footsteps. "Pango, I thought you'd sworn off alcohol since five years ago! What's going on here? Is that double whisky? Goddess Claire! You broke the vow you made in the Sky Temple, you did! I ought to _arrest_ you for that!"

"Be quiet." The younger voice interrupts. "You are within my power, Officer Suiryu."

"Ah- Emperor Jillius!" A stutter and a gasp. "It's a honour to see you here-"

"Oh, get out already. We're trying to mourn here. Go do things rich people like me do. Learn to play the concerter, eat your weight in chocolate buttons and dine on fish."

"Yes sir!" The door closes.

"Alright, Pango, where were we?"

"Mouring about _him_." Another sigh. "He was a good lad... I feel so sorry for the boy. He was born a hunter and hadn't had love before."

"At least he got to experience love." The younger voice replies. "Another whisky?"

"Yes please. Goddess bless you..."

The door bursts open. "I FEAR THEM NOT! LET THEM COME!"

"Goddess, Huepow, you're high on sugar again. Get out." The older voice says somewhat irritably. "Chipple should be banned from possessing sugar, candy, chocolates or anything like that. He's too kind and gives it all to you anyway."

"_We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine_..."

The door forcibly shuts. Footsteps.

"So tell me, Pango... who did he love?"

"Klonoa." A gulp. "He was a good lad too. Cute and sweet. It's not too surprising Guntz fell for him. Imagine a world with no love - and then this kid comes along and showers you with it. Anyone would be overcome by it."

"I understand that." An envious sigh. "I wish I was loved. I only get groupies."

"Better than nothing." A drunken chuckle. "Jillius, you're twenty-one. You have plenty of time. Besides, this particular instance of death... was caused by love."

A gasp. "Death by love? He must have _really_ loved Klonoa..."

"Aye, he did." Another gulp.

"So where is Klonoa now? He's lucky to have such a devoted hunter as an admirer. Wolves only love one person all their lives, don't they? So where is he?"

"Dead." A sniff. "With Guntz."

"He killed himself too?" A gasp of dismay. "What happened?"

"Well, Jillius, Klonoa didn't actually kill himself. Guntz didn't kill himself either... Guntz was angsting about something or another up on the Jugkettle ferry bay... And he happened to be sitting on the harbour. Klonoa happened to come by and he listened to Guntz ranting about something."

"Go on." A sound of something popping and liquid pouring. "That's another bottle right there. We need a new corkscrew."

"So Guntz finishes his rant after a few minutes, and they stay still... and Klonoa found out about the fact that Guntz loved him before, mind, and he kisses Guntz right on the mouth after proclaiming his love - Jillius, are you all right? You look awfully... flushed."

A cough. "No... do go on."

"And... well... Guntz kisses him back."

"Is that it, Pango? How can they die from _that_? Sounds like a really strange love story a deranged fangirl would write."

"True, Jillius, true. But remember they were sitting on the harbour. After a few seconds the kiss gets a little heated... and you know..."

The sound of someone inhaling sharply. "Oh no."

"Exactly." A sigh. "They fell into the water."

"...Could either of them swim?"

"Klonoa couldn't. Guntz could."

"Well, why didn't Guntz save them both?"

"He happened to be carrying his bazooka with him. He sank like a stone and dragged Klonoa down with him."

"...And how long did they know each other for?"

"About five weeks."

"...Not counting the Moon?"

"One week."

"Goddess Claire!" A dismayed sigh. "That's some love story right there. And how do you know all this?"

"I was on the ferry coming back to the harbour at the time."

A sigh and the sound of scraping chairs. "Shame, shame... they were both such wonderful boys."

"Aye, they were wonderful..."

"Pango, you look tired. You'd better go to bed."

"You too, Jillius. Goddess bless you. You're a wonderful person, you are."

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, Jillius."

"Goodnight, Pango."

-------------------------------------------------

I've finally done it! A Guntz x Klonoa story with neither of them present! I must say ever since Mobian Hero's comment on 'The Ultimate Guntz x Klonoa Drinking Game' I've been comtemplating how the heck that works out.

I like it, for something written at 10:13 at night.

Squeeeee.


	10. 09: Birthday

**Disclaimer: **Solitary Shadow, as much as she wants to, cannot have Klonoa and Guntz for Christmas this year. Merry Christmas to all of you.

**Author's Note:** Ah, a Christmas story. I just needed to write one, because that's what I do. Disappear for ages and then come back. Heehee.

This is again my favourite pairing - I'm thinking at the moment you guys are sick of it - and the fluff doesn't come until later. It's a nice quiet fic. Perfect to read while you eat chestnuts roasting on an open fire - unless you're allergic to nuts or don't have chestnuts or don't like them - or a slice of cake.

Happy Christmas to you all!

-------------------------------------------

Guntz walked down an alleyway, head down, lips pressed tightly together. He felt tired and ill, despite the cheery atmosphere. His hands were clutching something and he walked quickly, out of the alleyway, down the road and out of the town.

He was going home.

People wearing thick coats and hats passed him by, wishing each other happiness, but he wasn't part of it. All he wanted to was to get home, away from happiness that he would never get, away from people he found uncomfortable, and everyone else. His house was isolated, away from the cheerful atmosphere of the town, and it was quiet there. It was where he could find his solitude. There really was nothing more he could ever want.

Here he was now, in the peaceful village of Breezegale; the whole village was alight even so today, high in spirit due to the season. Guntz didn't mind this too much, as it was definitely more bearable than the atmosphere of the town, and besides his house was in the far distant corner of the village. He took a detour to avoid as many villagers as possible, going by the small side road, and walked quickly to his house.

Once he was inside he quickly shut the door and threw off his jacket, sighing with relief. The house was cold also, and he shivered, but he didn't put anything else on to warm himself. Instead, he went straight over to the fireplace and lit the fire, using a match. He put down the package on the coffee table and went out of the room, going upstairs to change.

-----

Guntz sat down on the armchair, letting the warmth of the fire melt the frost on his fur. He picked up the package and unwrapped it idly, revealing yet another gun - a vintage pistol. It was a treat he'd bought for himself, mainly to celebrate a special occasion. And because he had spare dreamstones. Being a gun fanatic, the two things added up together nicely in his mind and he'd gone and bought the pistol. He stroked the contours of the pistol almost lovingly, fingers lightly skimming for scratches or anything that would diminish its value. He found no faults - the pistol was flawless. Smiling to himself, he got himself a cleaning cloth and began to polish the gun, the tang of weaponary polish hanging thickly in the air. He used to retch at the stench of it, a long time ago - eleven years ago - but he was now used to it.

"I wonder if I can... load it..." He muttered to himself, and reached in his pocket for a spare cartridge. There was none. And he knew he didn't have any more left upstairs. He sighed and put the pistol away in his case, and got up, intending to put it back upstairs where he could load it afterwards. The bullets could wait. He went upstairs and found the room where all his guns were kept, and carefully placed down the pistol on the shelf. Then he went downstairs again, straight to the kitchen. Right now he wanted a nice relaxing moment, with a cup of coffee in his hands. Just the way he did every so often.

But it wasn't as easy as that. Not that particular day.

The doorbell rang, and Guntz twitched, annoyed. He briefly considered ignoring the bell, but then there was no point - his living room and kitchen were in plain view from the windows and he was visible from the outside. Sighing, he shuffled towards the door. "Yes?"

"Good afternoon." A soft timid voice called him. Guntz stiffened at the sudden voice, but then opened the door - coming face to face with a certain cabbit.

Klonoa stood nervously on the doorstep, holding something tightly, and he smiled at the hunter. "Um... may I come in?"

"Oh... yes. Of course." Guntz stuttered, and stepped aside to let the cabbit in. Klonoa shook off some snow off his fur as he entered, taking off his coat and tucking it underneath his arm, and then unlaced his boots. He breathed out, shivering with the cold. Guntz watched, looking somewhat concerned and confused.

"Your house is nice." Klonoa commented when he stepped out of his boots. "I haven't been here before. Nice and warm too."

"Would you like a drink?" Guntz asked, taking the cabbit's coat and hanging it up on the rack. "I know it's cold out there." His eyes fell on the frost clinging on to the cabbit's fur.

"Oh yes. I would like that." Klonoa replied.

"Do sit down. I'll get the drinks." Guntz gestured towards the living room. Klonoa stepped in, almost hesitating, but walked into the middle of the living room and looked around, marveling. The room was spacious, perhaps too spacious for one person; but with two, it was perfect. The armchairs were plain and black, the cushions a dull, but soft golden colour, and it looked beautiful. Guntz had a coffee table also, with various newspapers and a white mug with two straws. The mug was clean and empty. Klonoa tilted his head to one side, wondering about this curious arrangement, before he sat down gingerly on one of the armchairs. Guntz didn't get many visitors, he guessed, but the hunter sure knew how to treat one. Both armchairs faced the fireplace, which was thankfully lit, and Klonoa felt the frost melting from his fur. The seats were comfortable - very comfortable - and he felt very much at home.

"Tea or coffee?" Guntz called. "What drink would you like?"

"Do you have any hot chocolate?" Klonoa called back. "If not I'll have some coffee."

"Hot chocolate coming right up. You mind the sort with milk?"

"I prefer it with milk." Klonoa giggled to himself. Guntz really was considerate once he looked deep inside. "I'd like that, please." Guntz replied in the positive, and Klonoa settled back warmly into the armchair, a small dozy smile on his face. The sky was clear outside, with a bitter wind, but in here he was safe and warm. The whole room reminded him of Guntz; it was so his style, and the decoration colours matched his fur. That was what was good about it all.

"You seem to be thinking hard about something." Guntz commented, walking into the room with two mugs. He walked silently on the carpeted floor - so silently that Klonoa actually didn't realize he was in the room until the hunter put down a mug in front of him. He jumped and looked up at the hunter, who only chuckled in an amused manner and sat down on the armchair opposite him.

"Ah- no..." Klonoa stammered, his face turning red. Guntz chuckled again, his eyes glistening in the firelight, and turned back to watch the fire.

"What brings you here then, Klonoa?" He asked, after taking a sip of his drink.

"Because it's a special day for you today." The hunter stopped dead, about to sip his coffee but unable to, but Klonoa didn't notice. "You're seventeen today, aren't you?"

Guntz stayed silent for a moment. "... Now where the hell did you learn that?" He finally said. "I don't give out private information to anyone..."

"You told me. Seven months ago." Klonoa stifled a giggle. "Honestly, don't tell me that you forgot that."

"...Oh yeah. I remember." And indeed he had. He remembered ranting on about various things to Klonoa, while accidently slipping on many aspects of his life that was originally intended to be private, and had even gone as far as to telling the cabbit his birthday. Guntz inwardly cursed himself for this mistake, and vowed to let out steam once in a while instead of letting it all out in a rant next time. Klonoa was unaware of this inner turmoil, however, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It was one of the the best hot chocolate he'd ever tasted; he normally liked the ones with cream floating on top, but this one didn't need cream. It was sweet and warm, with just a hint of bitterness, and he loved the taste. He found that he was still clutching the object he had come to deliver in his arms, and looked over at the hunter. He seemed to be brooding, and Klonoa let him be for a few seconds before Guntz looked over.

"You make really nice hot chocolate." Klonoa said, trying to start a conversation. "And besides... happy birthday." He handed the hunter his gift and drew back. Guntz took the wrapped object and looked curiously at it, putting down his mug on the coffee table.

"Considering your birth date... well, not exactly twice the usual presents." Klonoa commented.

"But it's better than none." Guntz replied, and then a soft smile spread onto his face. "In fact... it's much more better than none." He murmured and got up, placing the present down on the chair, and then knelt in front of Klonoa's armchair, taking hold of a gloved hand. Klonoa gasped at the sudden touch, blushing somewhat; but the hunter didn't appear to notice as rare affection glistened in his blue eyes.

"Thank you." Guntz whispered and the cabbit knew it was heartfelt. Guntz reached up to pet Klonoa's head softly, and his touch wasn't rough or agressive this time; it felt gentle and soothing, just the way it should feel like.

"Go on, open it then. It won't be bad luck to open it today." Klonoa said. Guntz nodded and began opening the present, and the cabbit noted that he did this very neatly and tidily; he was like Lolo, who always opened her presents carefully and saved the wrapping paper. He doubted that Guntz would save the wrapping paper, but he was sure doing this extremely neatly.

"Wow..." The hunter exclaimed softly to himself, looking at the present. It was a book on weaponary, and he flicked through it, stopping on a page and reading the words. "No wonder I couldn't get the silencer to fit on that Kalashnikov... I shouldn't have put it into the barrel... interesting..." He looked up. "This is going to help me a lot. I have some problems with my weaponary and I don't always know how to use them properly." He smiled brightly at Klonoa. "Thank you- hmm, what's this?" Another package had fallen out and he opened it.

And stared.

"I didn't actually know what type you use-"

"I love you." Guntz looked up, eyes glistening with emotion. "I just totally _love _you." He got up and ran out of the room, laughing gleefully, holding the box of bullets in his hand, running off to load his new pistol. Klonoa heard his half-crazed, but nonetheless delighted laugh, and giggled to himself. Guntz was funny sometimes.

-----

"You got me all the things I could ever want this year." Guntz said as he sat back down again. "There's only seven days left until next year, but it's still a fair amount I could ever want there. Those bullets must have cost you a lot."

"It wasn't too bad." Klonoa sipped his hot chocolate again. "Although the manager of that shop looked strangely at me when I bought them. I suppose he thought I was really out of place." He put down the mug and looked at Guntz. "Since it's your birthday and it's a day of celebration, there should be a special dinner to mark the occasion, shouldn't there?"

"Dinner?" Guntz looked questioning. "Hmm. What are the options?" Klonoa quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Guntz wasn't turning down his offer, and he wasn't telling him to go back home either. The hunter seemed to be in a fair mood today, and that was good.

"Shall we go out to eat, or shall we stay home and cook?" Klonoa asked Guntz. "We'll do what you want to do. My treat."

"Hmm. Before I make up my mind, could you tell me your preference?"

"I would like to stay with you." Klonoa answered. "Preferably here to cook. But that's up to you."

"Nice." Guntz grinned. "Because that was the option I was going to choose." He chuckled again, playfully stroking the cabbit's headfur and brushing it back. "Great, I finally get to celebrate with someone else!"

-----

"Do you have chicken, turkey or a joint of some kind? That's traditional."

"Turkey right here." Guntz put down a wrapped package on the kitchen counter. "Thought I might treat myself. I get to treat us instead." He smiled, one of his rare, handsome, genuine ones, and Klonoa couldn't help smiling back; how could he not smile with Guntz? "Speaking of traditional, what's the main dessert today? Apart from cake that is."

"Mince pies. Or gingerbread, which is easier and kind of more homely. Mince pies need to have mincemeat in them which needs a lot of work over two or so days." Klonoa was peeling the ginger roots and adding the spices. "I hope you like it, Guntz! It's not to everyone's taste. For instance, Chipple and Lolo can't _stand_ it." He sighed. "Can't think why. Gingerbread's delicious."

"Never had it." Was Guntz's reply. Klonoa stopped dead, holding the ginger roots.

"Never had it?" Klonoa repeated. "Surely you can't be serious..."

"I am." Guntz was garnishing the turkey, laying a few strips of bacon on its breast. "I've never had it when I was little... it was more of a dinner thing. Considering my birth date it isn't too surprising. So I got nice dinners. Really nice ones. But I don't think I had anything other than cake for dessert. Pecan pies I had when I was four. Delicious." He seemed lost in his thoughts. "I've only had four consecutive, properly celebrated birthdays. My father was killed in June. Since then I've never celebrated, because..." He shrugged. "What's the point in celebrating on your own? I get to celebrate with you tonight, though. I guess Goddess Claire decided to be merciful to me this year... and perhaps onwards." He smiled at Klonoa. The cabbit smiled back. "...You're actually aware that the gingerbread mix is sticking to your hands, right?"

"What? Huh..." Klonoa yelped softly as he began wiping off the mix. Guntz only chuckled and put the turkey in the roasting tin, putting it in the oven.

"Don't ever change on me, Klonoa." He said softly as he stood up straight again. "I like you that way."

"If you say so." Klonoa murmured, having succeeded in getting the gingerbread mix off his hands, and was shaping it now. He finished the last one and put the lot into the oven also. "Let's ice our own bits. If you happen to like it, that is. I've already made butter icing."

-----

The dinner itself was wonderful; while the turkey was roasting the two had sat down on the table and talked. Guntz talked rather a lot once he was comfortable with it, Klonoa noticed - he was willing to give advice, to listen to others and such. He had a sense of humour that the cabbit found that they shared. When the gingerbread was done - way before the turkey was even browning - Guntz bit into one and tucked into another, enjoying it.

"For God's sake, Guntz, ice it first!" Klonoa scolded with good humour. Guntz merely grinned and took up the icing bag, scribbling some things onto the gingerbread. They were mostly words of wisdom, or a quick scribble of a picture.

When the turkey was done they could tuck into the meal, and they did so happily; the dinner was a success, with gingerbread and 'something else' to finish off, according to the hunter. Guntz was fetching that 'something else' now, as Klonoa leaned back contentedly on the armchairs.

"Full and happy, are we?"

"Indeed." He called back. "What's that 'something-or-other' you are bringing, may I ask?"

"Look over."

Guntz put down two glasses of fine-quality wine on the coffee table. "You've had wine before, I believe?"

"Not really." Klonoa answered. "Wine, to me, is a flavouring - but I've never had it on its own."

"It's not a very strong one." Guntz said. "It's a bit like champagne. But without the bubbles. You might like it. You might not." He picked up the glass, showing Klonoa the right way to hold a wine glass. "You don't hold it by the stem, that doesn't do much for the wine - that's it - swirl it around a little, that'll warm the wine slightly. Try tasting it a little now."

Klonoa held the glass to his lips and sipped the wine. The wine tasted sour and strong at the first sip, and he almost grimaced at the taste; but after a while a glorious sweetness spread around his tongue, and he was surprised (although pleased).

"See?" Guntz laughed, and he took a delicate sip of his wine also. "Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all."

They stayed silent for a while, sipping wine and relaxing by the fire. Klonoa felt at heaven, relaxed and happy; he had never imagined that being with the hunter would be so enjoyable. He felt peaceful, being able to celebrate in such a quiet place for a change. Guntz had cheered up considerably also, he could see that, and he felt happy. But there was something rather strange about the place, he thought, and he looked around, trying to figure out what was strange. Then it clicked.

"Haven't you got any decorations around the house?" He asked. Guntz had stood up, clearing away the spare mugs on the coffee table and the various bits of newspapers, and Klonoa jumped up to help him.

"Not many." Guntz replied idly. They were walking towards the kitchen together now. "I haven't got a tree. But I did put up a small wreath up there on the window-" It was true. "And there was something else I put up. Can't remember what, though."

"Hmm." Klonoa said thoughtfully, but said nothing more. Nothing was said until the both of them began walking back towards the living room, and Guntz stood still at the foot of the stairs.

"Oh yeah. I remember." He said softly.

"What?" Klonoa asked, and stepped back in front of Guntz. The hunter seemed somewhat wary when the cabbit had stepped back, and he thought it odd; "What's wrong?"

"Mistletoe." Guntz said quietly, looking up to the ceiling. Klonoa looked up also, and saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging on the ceiling. And they were directly below it, both of them looking at each other as if spellbound. Klonoa knew what it meant, Guntz knew also, but neither of them voiced it for a while. They just stood and stared at each other and occasionally up at the mistletoe.

"Well." Klonoa finally murmured. "I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I." Guntz said. "But we can't back out, can we?"

"We can't." Klonoa answered, his eyes resting on the mistletoe. "How can we back out?"

"I guess we'll just have to do it." Guntz said, looking into the cabbit's eyes. Klonoa bit his lip slightly.

"I've never kissed before. And we're both male..." He chuckled nervously. "You know..."

"I do. Because I haven't kissed either." Guntz answered, and leant down so he was level with Klonoa. "You... ready?"

"Do your worst." Klonoa grinned, closing his eyes. Guntz inhaled and exhaled again, staring at the cabbit; he didn't know how to make this quick yet still nice enough, what with his lack of experience in this matter. He closed his eyes also, and then pressed his lips onto Klonoa's, as gently as possible.

It was nothing like he'd expected; Klonoa's lips were soft and warm, and had the pleasant taste of wine. Guntz had thought kisses as somewhat strange and had winced whenever he saw someone kissing another person, due to inner disgust. But now it felt right, it felt nice and he wanted more. This was not to say that he was the only one enjoying the kiss, of course. Klonoa was breathless and felt light-headed, but couldn't stop. Guntz felt too nice, too wonderful to pull away and he clung there, longing for more contact. Guntz wasn't as rough with him as he expected - the cabbit had to marvel at this, as his handling of some other people and certain unfortunate objects had been very rough indeed. Klonoa subconsciously wrapped his arms around the hunter, pulling him close, longing for more touch; Guntz was surprised, yes, but he wasn't about to back out either.

It seemed hours before they broke the kiss. They stared at each other for a long while, having completely forgotten what to say, and just stood there.

"Not too bad," Guntz finally spoke. "Was it?"

"Not bad." Klonoa answered with a slow smile and a blush. "That was... nice..."

Guntz smiled and patted the cabbit's back, emphasizing that there were no hard feelings. "Come on. Let's go and sit down in the living room."

-----

"You drink a lot of coffee." Klonoa commented.

"Do I?" Guntz looked down into the mug. "Hmm. It's only the third cup today. I've got to wash those mugs."

"Speaking of mugs, Guntz... Why do you have two straws in that mug over there?" Klonoa pointed. Guntz looked over to the coffee table, and smiled at the two straws in the cup.

"Those, you mean? Well... they're important to me. I don't drink out of this mug." He sighed and continued. "Those straws make me feel that I've got someone to share things with. It creates a vision of a companion in my eyes. That way I'm not lonely. Even though-" Here he laughed somewhat bitterly. "-it's not permanent."

He glanced at Klonoa as he said this, and was surprised to find pity and sorrow welling up in the cabbit's eyes. He added "But today isn't like that, Klonoa. I have you with me to celebrate." He patted the cabbit's head gently. "You made me really happy today." Klonoa looked up and smiled again, his cheeks a soft pink, and Guntz found himself wanting to hold him tight and stay there; why, he didn't quite understand, but there was something undeniably cute about the boy that intrigued him. His fingers lightly skimmed the shoulders of the cabbit; but then his expression turned into one of concern and he leaned forwards.

Klonoa looked uneasily at the hunter. "What is it?"

"You clothes are so _thin_." Guntz felt the cabbit's shirt, pinching the fabric. "Oh Klonoa, what were you _thinking_?"

Klonoa blushed with embarassment. "Well... I thought it would be less cold... it's always colder in the mornings, you know that - but I never expected the temperature to just plummet like this." He shivered. "If it's cold outside... um... How am I going to get back?"

Klonoa's house was at the opposite side of the village, he knew; it was still twenty minutes' walk, and that was the shortcut. Plus, the shortest way back would directly cross over the Bell's Hill, where Guntz had no intentions of letting Klonoa go at midnight.

"It's snowy out there." He opened the window a crack, and closed it almost immediately, wincing. "And terribly windy too. You can _not_ go out alone in that."

"Aww..." Klonoa sighed. "Then what do I do?"

"...You could stay the night." Guntz answered, stroking the cabbit's head in an attempt to soothe him. "It's warm here at least. After today it's the least I could do for you. You can have the bed too."

"But what about you?"

"The armchairs are there for a purpose. Put them together and you've got yourself a nice couch."

"Don't do that." Klonoa protested gently. "It's your bed. And I'm in your debt already. I'll take the couch."

"...So you're staying?" Guntz smiled. Klonoa nodded after some hesitation, and the hunter chuckled. "Nice one! Tell you what, it's a double bed. If you want you could share with me."

"...Are you sure?"

"Sure as hell." He winked and led the cabbit back inside. "You go up first. I'll turn off the lights."

The bed was warm and soft, the cabbit noted once he was sat down on it; he bounced a little at first, being used to doing that with his own bed back at home. The mattress was firmer in Guntz's bed, but it was warm. And the bed didn't creak. He settled down comfortably, sighing.

"What are you sighing for?" Guntz entered the room and sat down next to Klonoa, taking the boy's hat off for him and setting it down. "Glad to see that you found this room alright. I was wondering what was going to happen once you entered the weapons room."

"The... weapons room?"

"Yep." Guntz grinned devilishly. "Where I keep all my guns. If you wander in there you might get a shock. But I might show you around it sometime. It's safer with me guiding you around, although I can't guarantee your life fully even so." Seeing the look on Klonoa's face, Guntz laughed and shook his head. "I only do things for friends once I'm assured they're comfortable with it. Don't worry too much. I was joking." He laughed once more and turned the blankets over. "Come on in. It's warmer inside."

-----

"Guntz?"

"Hmm?"

"You know that kiss..." Klonoa looked shyly at him. "...under the mistletoe?"

"Yes...?" Guntz turned fully towards him, his eyes intense.

"Could we..." Klonoa blushed and swallowed softly. "Um... Could we... do it... again?"

"...Again?" Guntz inquired. "Once not enough?"

"..." Klonoa didn't attempt a reply and just blushed. Guntz chuckled, amused, and lowered himself down to Klonoa's level, holding the cabbit by the waist. The cabbit watched him, nervous and tense, but relaxed as the hunter stroked his fur; the bed was warm now, quite warm, and he loved it.

"We _could _do it again." Guntz murmured against Klonoa's cheek, and without further hesitation placed his lips upon the cabbit's. He was even more gentle this time around, and Klonoa closed his eyes with bliss; he could feel the soft warmth, and he could taste the coffee on the hunter's lips - rich and _delicious_ - and he reached, hugging Guntz closer, wanting more. He was surrounded by warmth, from the intense body heat of the hunter to the warmth of the sheets. He didn't want to let go.

"My God..." Guntz whispered hotly as the kiss broke. "I'll never be able to stop..." He dived back down for another kiss, which Klonoa recieved happily. Their positions had shifted by this time, with Guntz directly on top of Klonoa, but neither of them really noticed. Guntz couldn't stop kissing the cabbit, it just felt too nice to stop. He smelled faintly of peppermint and apple pie (which went well together, he thought wryly) and Guntz enjoyed every bit of it. Klonoa, of course, was almost light-headed with happiness by this stage. Guntz's scent - spicy with a hint of musk and gunpowder - and the heat between them intensified the experience for him.

Guntz broke this kiss also and looked down at the cabbit, breathing deeply. Klonoa lay beneath him, with kiss-swollen lips, eyes closed and a dazed expression on his face, and the hunter chuckled. He nuzzled the cabbit gently on the cheek, and Klonoa responded with a quiet sound of contentment. Guntz closed his eyes, moving over, and caught Klonoa's bottom lip between his own lips playfully. Klonoa let a soft moan escape him at the sensual gesture and opened his eyes, blushing softly. The hunter's fingers lazily danced across the cabbit's chest, down to his abdomen, which made him mewl out quietly in surprise. Guntz merely smiled and settled down comfortably next to him, still smiling.

"Cute..." He murmured, kissing the tip of Klonoa's ear. "You're really cute, you know that?" A soft lick. "Mmm, I could stay here like this for ages... with you..." He nuzzled deep into Klonoa's arms, pulling the blankets around the both of them.

Klonoa mewed again, louder this time. He settled onto Guntz's chest uneasily, but then relaxed and purred as the hunter stroked his head and kissed him; he felt dazed and faint with happiness.

"Guntz." He whispered. "I really enjoyed myself today."

"Me too, kitten." Guntz murmured back. "Mmm." Klonoa reached up shyly to meet the hunter's lips with his own. After a short, affection-filled kiss, Guntz lay back down with a drowsy smile. And then suddenly he was asleep, chest heaving gently as he inhaled and exhaled, lips curved in a smile. Klonoa watched the hunter for a long while, a grin on his lips, and looked briefly out of the window when the midnight bells began ringing in the distance. He listened silently to the bells up until the ninth stroke, and bent down close to Guntz's cheek, whispering two words and pressing a kiss onto his lips:

"Merry Christmas."

-----------------------------------------

Awwwwwww.

They're so cute. Fancy Guntz getting Klonoa slightly drunk with wine before he gets him into bed. Bless them both.

I liked writing this one. It's one of my 'start slowly and then add a few bits in to finish it over a month or so' stories. Not many of those, but they're long. I've never had a really traditional Christmas Dinner - not many of those nowadays, I've heard that 43 percent of people in England are going to tuck into ready-made stuff - but I'm having one this year. In fact as you read this I might be having turkey with gravy and little bacon-wrapped chipolatas.

Alright, I'm hungry now.

All together once more before I go to have dinner.

Awwwwwwww.


	11. 10: Food for Thought

**Disclaimer:** Bleh... I own nothing. Namco does. Cause you know... it's awesome like that.

**Author's Note:** God, this one is... old. I was backupping my PC (backupping - word? O.o) and found this. I seem to do that quite a lot. I finished it... so it goes up here.

This is not exclusively GxK, to be honest - it's just the two of them spending a typical day in Namco x Capcom when they're not fighting. And food. Yeah. Food.

Heheh.

--------------------------------------

"I'm back." A voice called from outside. Klonoa looked out, poking his head through the flap of the tent, and scowled at the person who was approaching.

"I thought you'd never turn up." The cabbit said crossly. "I've been watching the Red Clan for about two hours now and getting heartily sick of it. Where were you anyway?"

"Chill, Klonoa." The young man laughed, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. "If you were sick of my baby I wouldn't let you ride along with me." Klonoa blushed at that, turning away, but the other didn't notice. "I was in the marketplace. We're not out to battle, our battle date is two weeks. Until then we'll just have to keep on base and guard the fort, and mess about in general. There are a lot of Moos around, I saw them. It's only us in base for two weeks, so we can hunt around."

"Great. Anything other than Moos around, Guntz?" Klonoa's ears perked up at the sound of rustling. "Food!" He jumped to the bags that the hunter had been carrying, poking around.

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Guntz pulled one of the bags away. "We're economizing."

"Awww..." Klonoa's ears drooped and he sighed. Guntz, upon watching that, softened a bit and patted the cabbit's head gently. Klonoa looked up, and the hunter brushed a lock of his headfur back, smiling. Despite his disappointment Klonoa couldn't help smiling in return, blushing softly.

"We've got vegetables and some meat. Most of it's jerky, but we have some fresh ones. We'll have to eat that today and tomorrow." Guntz inspected the contents. "There's a small river nearby, and the water is quite clean there - we can save money and drink from there, but I just got some bottles anyway. And the river has fish." He looked to the east. "I'll have to teach you to fish in a few days. Other than that, I just have some snacks and that's about it."

"You even thought of snacks." Klonoa remarked, already unwrapping a small bar of caramel. "That's new."

-----

The sun was shining brightly overhead. It was a beautiful afternoon, sunlight sprinkled over the waters of the river, and the two lay on the ground, eyes closed and relaxed. It was a nice feeling to lie under the sunshine, away from the worries and dangers of combat and just lie there lazily. Klonoa was dozing, and Guntz was absent-mindedly stroking his gun. This did not come off as strange to the cabbit; he knew that the gun was not loaded, and Guntz was much too careful to set it off even if it were, and that he was an expert, so it did not worry him at all.

"Guntz?"

"What do you want, kid?" The reply came. The hunter sounded very drowsy, almost asleep. Klonoa looked over at him. His eyes were shut and his normally firm, sharp features were softened; he looked just like a normal teenager instead of an assassin. The cabbit found himself staring at the hunter for a long time, taking every detail in, having completely forgotten what he was going to say.

"Hello? Earth to Klonoa?" A gloved hand waved about in front of his face. Klonoa jumped, startled, and stared at the hunter again, looking blank. "What was it that you wanted?"

"What? Oh..." Klonoa fell silent again as he tried to recall what he'd wanted to say. "Well.. I wanted to ask you something."

"Fire away. I'm listening."

"What do you feel like now... that Janga's gone?"

There was silence.

"...What the hell?" Came the reply, sounding confused and slightly annoyed. The cabbit winced and drew back.

"No, never mind... I was just curious..." He murmured, thinking that he had said something wrong. Janga was, after all, a delicate talking point and Guntz's most hated person until now. He shouldn't have mentioned the name at all. Klonoa was just thinking of an excuse to go back into the tent and avoid further confrontation when a gloved hand gently cupped his chin.

"It's alright." Guntz said softly, looking at the cabbit. "You were bound to ask in the end." His hand dropped to the ground and he stared up at the sky. Klonoa watched him, waiting. Guntz would answer him in the end, however long he took.

"After Janga died..." The hunter sighed. "Well, I was triumphant. You know that much. But after you lot had all gone to sleep..." He trailed off, burying his head into his arms. The cabbit moved over and looked expectantly at him. "I stayed awake. I'd lived my life for a sole purpose, killing Janga. But he was dead and... I had nothing. There was no purpose left for me. I was empty."

Silence reigned for a minute.

"Then...?" Klonoa slowly asked. Guntz sure didn't look empty - there must have been something else.

"Well... I thought about the situation for hours, and then I realized I maybe had some things to live for, after all. Not money. Money's no purpose for anyone and I have plenty of that anyway. One of to rid Lunatea of evil. Not very difficult, because Janga's dead now and there are few foes left in Lunatea. I knew I was grasping at straws when it came to my _other_ purpose - but it was worth keeping it in mind, I suppose, so here I am now."

"What's your other purpose?" Klonoa asked curiously, but Guntz only smiled, shaking his head. He got up.

"No time for that now. It's suppertime. We should get to work with cooking." He was walking towards the tent, whistling to himself. The cabbit watched, a small grin on his face. Guntz had become a lot more agreeable and gentle since his nemesis had been taken care of, and Klonoa liked it that way. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a slithering sound coming near him. Klonoa looked around, ears perked up, but didn't raise his guard.

That was the mistake.

A Moo was dashing towards him, its little stone sword pointed. Klonoa stared, transfixed; it was only a small Moo, but he was unarmed and those small creatures could do a lot of damage if angered. The cabbit tried to get up, but the Moo was coming fast...

"Guntz!" Klonoa cried, turning back to run. He could outrun the creature quite easily. But just as he was about to move, he felt a sharp pain travel through his leg; the Moo's sword had struck his ankle, and he fell down with a pained cry. The Moo was getting ready to attack again, its little face showing nothing more than hate. It pointed its sword at Klonoa, ready to charge once more. Klonoa gasped - whether from the pain, or in dismay, he didn't know - and shut his eyes.

A shot sounded from behind him, and the Moo fell down. Klonoa opened his eyes, to see that the little creature was still, the sword embedded onto the ground. Slowly, it's body began to glow, until it was all broken up into golden coins and sky-blue dreamstones. Guntz was standing behind the cabbit, a bemused look on his face, and helped Klonoa up gently.

"First catch since we've come here, I suppose. You okay?" He asked. The cabbit nodded, shaken but regaining his calmness.

"Keep absolutely still. I don't think the blade was poisoned, but it might still have caused much damage."

"Tell me about it." Klonoa laughed shakily. "Thanks... for saving me, Guntz..."

"No problem, kid. Only for you."

Guntz was looking straight ahead, gaze fixed on the dreamstones and the golden coins, seemingly ignoring the red blood spattered on the ground.

"Is that your blood or the Moo's?" He asked directly to Klonoa, who winced a little as he looked down. There was blood running down his ankle, yes; but it was only a trickle, and certainly not enough to make a mess on the ground.

"It's the Moo's." Klonoa answered. "You... sure did make a lot of mess. Normally your targets don't even appear to shed blood, they just drop down and die."

"That Moo was small enough for the bullet to go right through it." Guntz answered back with a ghastly cheerfulness. He began picking up the dreamstones and coins, shaking off the drops of blood, putting them into his pocket and humming to himself softly. "Oh, pretty red dots on the floor..."

-----

"That's better, isn't it?"

"Much better." Klonoa answered, as he drew his leg back and inspected the bandages. "Wow... you've done a really professional job here, Guntz."

"I had to learn," The hunter replied calmly, putting away the kit. "It's a rough world. You'll be okay in a few days or so. Lucky we haven't got any battles in store." He finished putting away the bandages and then looked back. "Rest, Klonoa. I'll get on with dinner."

"What's for dinner, then?" Klonoa asked with interest. Guntz only winked and went out of the tent, and soon the cabbit could hear a crackling as the bonfire was lit. He sighed and laid back, looking at the green canvas cover of the tent.

Guntz had changed.

He was gentle, he was calm. Ah, the bliss of being with the hunter; Guntz was openly honest and wonderful to the cabbit, his sapphire eyes always gleaming with life when Klonoa approached him. Guntz had never been like that before. Before their journey to become a hero ended, the cabbit only knew Guntz as... cold. Emotionless and ruthless as well, never caring for other people much. But the hunter had matured into a young man of sixteen now, and was now friendly and cheerful. That was his unique charm. Klonoa had spent the last few days in almost-heaven.

"Klo', come over a sec if you can, could you?"

"What is it?" Klonoa dragged himself with some effort to the entrance to the tent. "Guntz, what the-"

"Lend us some Wind energy. The fire's too weak and there's no wind about, and I have no clue how to use your ring." Klonoa raised an eyebrow.

"But surely you know how to increase a bonfire flame, Guntz, you've lived out in the open ever since you were little."

"I was lucky then." Guntz muttered. "Just hurry up."

"Yes sir." Klonoa mock-saluted, and disappeared into the tent. He appeared again twenty seconds later, holding a jewelled ring. He pointed the jewel towards the flame, while Guntz watched silently. "Ruprudu!"

Instantly, the fire shot up and flared a deep, fiery red, transforming so suddenly that Klonoa flinched. The hunter however seemed to find this vaguely amusing, and only poked the fire more.

"Stop that!" Klonoa yelped. "You want to burn us all up or something?"

"Chill." The hunter replied lazily. "I threw gunpowder in the fire. It works like magic." He pointed to the sky, where a Flying Moo squawked and fell into the flames, getting nicely roasted in the process. "Look, instant meat!"

Klonoa sighed. "We can't actually _eat_ Moos, Guntz..."

-----

"Dinner's done." A voice called from outside. Klonoa crawled over to the entrance, looking wary. "Stop looking like that, Klonoa. I haven't done anything to it. It hasn't got bits of Moos in it, dessicated, roasted or otherwise." Klonoa made a face, shuddering.

"Talk again and you'll just put me off dinner."

"Tough." Guntz was checking a saucepan; there was a wonderful scent as he took off the lid, a savoury one, and Klonoa breathed in appreciatively. "Klonoa, do you want to slice the bread?"

"Where is it?"

Guntz took out two large rolls out of a bag and laid them on a board. "The knife's there. What's soup without bread?"

"Not much." Klonoa laughed and began slicing the bread into chunks. There was silence for a while as the two got on with their work. The silence was broken when Klonoa put down the knife and arranged the chunks of bread onto a dish. "There you go!"

"Well done. Now we can eat." Guntz smiled, and took the ladle. Klonoa watched him, the flames lighting his face, eyes filled with happiness and curiosity.

"Here." Guntz handed him a bowl, filled with a hot, steaming liquid. Klonoa took the bowl and peered into it, absent-mindedly fishing around in his bag for a spoon. Guntz had settled into his own space, opposite the cabbit, with his own bowl. Looking into Klonoa's eyes, Guntz softly murmured the traditional Lunatean prayer before the meal, the cabbit joining in quietly after a word or two. The words faded away between the crackling of the fire, but they held meaning to the both of them and that was what mattered.

Klonoa dipped his spoon into the bowl, sipping the contents, and his face brightened. "Wow." He said softly, staring into the bowl. "Guntz, you're a good cook!"

"I try." Guntz smiled, and took up his own spoon. The soup was hot, but not too salty; the meat inside was tender, being cooked throughly. There were a few vegetables as well but Klonoa didn't mind for once, as he could barely taste them, and he concentrated more on the creamy flavour. Neither of them spoke as they enjoyed the meal.

"Have another helping if you want," Guntz spoke once, and then he lapsed into silence again. Klonoa took the ladle and took some more. "And you could give me the rest, if you please."

After two helpings each of the soup, both were full and content. Klonoa murmured his thanks to Guntz, and to the Goddess Claire. Guntz smiled, giving his thanks to the Goddess also. "Stay here," He said, taking the bowls. "I'll wash up and come back. Keep watch."

"Okay."

-----

"Guntz?"

"Hmmm?"

"Care for chocolate as dessert?" Klonoa held up a chocolate bar, grinning. Guntz's eyes widened.

"Hey, Klonoa- what the hell- that's-" He spluttered, but then as Klonoa pouted and went teary-eyed, stopped. "...Alright."

"You're not the only one who likes chocolate, you know." Klonoa scolded with good humour, breaking the bar into two. "You could have bought two." Normally he would have thought this fact irritating; but it was Guntz he was dealing with, not anyone else, and he was used to it. But Klonoa was nowhere near prepared for the answer.

"It wasn't for me." Guntz replied softly.

Klonoa stared. "What?"

Without further talk, Guntz took up his half of the bar, unwrapping it and biting off a square. Klonoa watched him.

"The bar was yours, by the way. Nice of you to offer." Guntz continued speaking, after he'd finished savouring the square. "This is really good. Try eating it slowly."

Klonoa unwrapped his own half gingerly and took a bite himself. The chocolate was sweet and rich, with the faintest hint of bitterness, with subtle creamy smoothness that he never realized was in chocolate. The chocolate had no fillings in it, being solid milk chocolate, but it was lovely to just hold it on his tongue and let it melt.

"See?" Guntz laughed, seeing Klonoa's face brighten.

"I do," Klonoa replied, grinning. "Strange how you know so much."

"I know a lot of things." Guntz replied vaguely, and took another bite. There was silence in the tent for a while, the two watching the bonfire, with one occasionally prodding the wood deeper into the flames to create more heat. There was something about the atmosphere, silent yet oddly calming the nerves. Klonoa's fingers lightly brushed Guntz's arm, and they both smiled. The cabbit didn't notice that his other hand was dangerously close to the fire, but Guntz did.

"Careful!" Guntz quickly pulled Klonoa away. "You could have burnt yourself!" But Klonoa was hardly listening.

"Guntz, your hands are so cold!"

"I've been cold before." The hunter remarked with little emotion, settling down again. "It's nothing serious."

"Still..." The cabbit trailed off, and gently held Guntz's right hand in two of his own, trying to warm it up. "It's not healthy to have cold hands, Guntz."

"I've been like that for a long time." Guntz replied quietly. "There's not much use in trying to warm me up now."

Klonoa didn't reply to that, but merely looked at Guntz.

"Don't look at me like that." The hunter said, sounding somewhat annoyed. "That's not going to work on me, I tell you, because-"

"It's not _that_, Guntz." Klonoa began to giggle, nudging up close to the older one. "You're still really childish, you know that? There's chocolate smudged on your cheek, although Goddess knows how it got there."

"What?" Guntz lightly touched his cheek with a finger, feeling the smudge of chocolate, and knew that Klonoa was speaking the truth. "Huh. Guess I'll have to just... wipe it off, then..." He reached next to him for his rucksack, trying to get himself a tissue and regain his dignity before anything else happened. But he was stopped by a hand gently grasping his.

"Tut-tut... tissues won't make it any better, everyone knows that." Klonoa teased gently. "Here. Let me help you."

"...What are you going to do to me?" Guntz asked, looking wary. The cabbit merely grinned, pulling the hunter close to him.

"Just shush." He said, and reached with his tongue before the hunter could pull away from him, licking his cheek; he licked away the chocolate, wetting the fur on the hunter's cheek in the process, and giggled again, dabbing at the wet spot on his cheek.

"There you go. Clean."

Guntz had said nothing during the whole process, and he merely stared at the young cabbit as he pulled away. He mindlessly touched his cheek, feeling the slight moistness, but did nothing to wipe it away; he seemed bewildered at the sudden act.

"Guntz? Are you alright?"

No answer.

"Guntz?"

The hunter did nothing but stared into the fire. Yet Klonoa, with his sharp eyes, could spot the faintest speck of a blush rising on the hunter's cheeks, and grinned again. He nuzzled closer to Guntz and smiled at him.

"...That was..." Guntz finally broke the silence. "...well... unexpected."

"At least you're clean now."

"True." The hunter dabbed at his cheek, and glanced at the cabbit again, his expression hovering between confusion and affection. "Well... thanks."

"Anytime." Klonoa grinned, and then without waiting for a reply, enclosed the hunter in a tight embrace. "Love you too!"

"Klonoa- get off-" Guntz protested, wincing as the cabbit landed a huge smooch on his cheek. "What's gone into you today?"

"I dunno what, Guntz, but maybe it was the chocolate-"

"Teh." Guntz scowled briefly, but then his expression softened and he patted the cabbit softly on the head. "Come on then. Time to go to bed. We're up early tomorrow - I'm going to teach you how to fish, and by the looks of the river I think the best catches are in the morning."

"If you say so." Klonoa was already laying out the bedding, collapsing on the soft material with a giggle. Guntz followed suit, having taken off his jacket, and dimmed the oil lamp so they could go to sleep easily. The cabbit rolled around for a few seconds and then nuzzled close to the hunter, sharing his warmth.

"Guntz?"

"Yes, kitten?"

"You know that Moobird you roasted," An awkward silence. "Well... what happened to it? You didn't... eat it, did you? We can't eat Moos..."

"Of course we can't _eat_ Moos." The reply came, sounding annoyed. "I know that much."

"Then where is it?"

"Tell you later." The dazed reply came; the hunter seemed to be falling asleep. "Tomorrow... when we go fishing..."

"What-" Klonoa suddenly paled. He could imagine, and the thought was extremely disturbing as it was.

"No you did _not_." He whispered. "No way we're going to use _that _as bait..."

------------------------------------------------

Ladies and gentlemen, please gather around for this week's incredible offer - Smoked Moo Bait for Fishing, only ten dreamstones for two! Alternatively, purchase a twelve-pack for only fifty dreamstones - it's a steal! Those who want variety can purchase a Moobird flavoured bait, either Smoked or Compressed. We're robbing ourselves (instead of robbing _you_ - oops, pretend we didn't say that O.o) - has to end Monday!

...O.o

Jesus Christ, I disturb myself sometimes. xD Now I have an image of Guntz frantically skinning and roasting a Moobird over a campfire. And it's all my fault.


End file.
